Pawn Takes King
by Closet Adventuralist
Summary: Darcy is given a new assignment with SHIELD, and she seeks the help of an unlikely source to help her solve the case. Darcy/Loki
1. Chapter 1

**I should not have gone to see The Avengers. It has taken over my consciousness and taken my focus from my True Blood fic that I've been trying to finish. Anyways, I have officially joined Loki's army and am now caught up in Darcy/Loki fun. This will probably be a shorter work of about six or seven parts. **

**Please enjoy responsibly. XD  
**

It all started with the 'love nest' in Tony's massive living room. Set into a pit in the marble floors, the nest consisted of a mass of cushions and pillows, facing a gigantic flat screen TV that lowered from the ceiling. It had become Darcy's custom to drag Jane away from the monitors while lover-boy was out saving the world from one psychopath or another. Speaking of psychos, they had added another to their team. Slow going at first—'cause, you know, psychopath—but eventually (and to his brother's effervescent delight) both Loki and Director Fury agreed that he should become a full-time member of the squad.

So, there they were, watching a cheap zombie flick from her arsenal of cheap B movies that sat by the pile on the floor of not-quite her bedroom. Popcorn between them, Darcy did her best to keep Jane's massive intellect from conjuring up images of her dead Asgardian god.

"Look at that, you can totes see the edge of the mask!" Darcy called with a hoot. "Cheap trick, dudes."

Jane rolled her eyes, "As if the Kool-Aid blood wasn't a dead giveaway."

"I like to think of it as thinned by alcohol. Johnny is a drinker, I'll have you know." Darcy shot back primly.

They laughed for a moment, their attention returning to the show. Darcy settled further against the pillows. They were so fluffy—the best kind—and they had some kind of memory foam inside that conformed to her exceptionally curvy body. The whole thing had luxury written all over it and she could tell how women had probably swooned over it. Darcy groaned inwardly, sex was the last thing she needed to think about. And forget about relationships. With her luck, they would figure out what she actually did for a living and been summarily sent to Siberia. Not that she was too important. In the bigger picture, she was Jane's trusty sidekick—the funny kind with inappropriate jokes and snarky comebacks. She wasn't essential, but she _was_ there, and that was what mattered.

The movie dragged to an anti-climactic close, and Darcy lunged for the remote to switch to mindless TV before Jane could come out of her stupor of forgetting. "So," she said casually, "how do you get him out of that armor?"

Jane's eyebrows hit her hairline, "The armor?"

"Yeah," Darcy urged, "The armor. He comes back from a battle all pumped full of adrenaline and ready to let off some steam. Must be a bitch to get him out of the armor fast enough."

This time Jane's face blushed under Darcy's waggling eyebrows. "Um, it can be difficult."

"Details!" Darcy crowed, "I need details, because god knows that I'm not getting laid around here."

Jane lucked out when the elevator doors dinged open and the crew hustled into the main foyer. They looked tired, mostly, but Tony's 100 watt smile was beaming out from his raised helmet and no one looked battered or broken.

"Hey guys!" Darcy said, waving at them.

Tony paused, "What is this, a party? And you didn't invite me." His eyes widened into a dejected look, even as Jarvis removed his suit.

"I think the term you are looking for is orgy, Tony, and damn if work made me a little too tired to tough that out." Darcy smiled at the man who had graciously built them all (okay, he didn't really build it for sidekicks, but she tagged along anyways) a mansion so that they could live in relative safety. "Besides, wouldn't Pepper have something to say about you joining our little love nest?"

Tony' smile widened, his eyes taking on that boyish glow that seemed to resonate form the core of his being, and Darcy found herself returning the smile, knowing that he was one of the few here that really enjoyed speaking with her on a daily basis. Most of SHEILD either ignored her completely, or shot her confused looks when she spoke. Jane rolled to the side of the pit and pulled herself to standing. Darcy watched on as she shared a moment with Thor, who seemed to become a gentle giant whenever the object of his affection came near. Their whispered words turned her stomach and as she picked up on the sweet nothings—too sweet for her taste.

The Cap stood some feet away, removing his cowl and gloves. She'd seem him on the battlefield, always at the ready and in control, issuing orders and directing the chaos. It was during these off moments, that Darcy recognized the misplaced soul for what it was, though he'd probably pat her shoulder lightly and tell her 'not to worry, little lady'. She hated and loved that he called her that. Bruce hadn't gone on this mission, and neither had the two super spies who were probably off doing recon for the next in an endless line of mission from SHEILD. It seemed that as soon as they got home, Fury was calling them in again to start all over. To be honest, it was getting boring.

And then there was Loki, god of mischief, and would-be ruler of the world. He had sprawled on the couch, his heavy jacket slung over the back to reveal the more intricate underlining of his armor. Like Thor's, it curled around him as a second skin, revealing lean muscle and strength that may have rivaled his brother. His face was passive as always, but she could tell that he was tired. In fact, every time she had seen him, he had looked tired. She shrugged, maybe he didn't sleep at night.

"We were just going to watch another movie, if you wanted to join us in the," she paused dramatically, "love nest."

"Works for me," Tony said, already sliding onto the cushions. "Blondie, doc, join us!"

"Yes, join us!" Darcy chimed in, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

Jane, knowing this wasn't a battle she could win, took Thor by the hand and they, too, settled into the pillows.

"Capscicle, let's go!"

Steve smiled a very small smile and shook his head, "Got an early meeting tomorrow. Need to get my rest."

"You mean beauty sleep," Darcy taunted lightly. "It's okay, Cap'n, we all know you gotta look perky in the mornings, being the leader and all."

Steve's smile grew slightly, and he waved her off, heading for his room. That left…Dios Verde, god of brooding.

"Loki," Darcy said, surprised at how her voice had gentled, "There's room here if you want to watch with us." She patted the large expanse of cushion next to her. "Besides, this one's a mind bender. It will keep you guessing."

His gaze, stoic and unflinching, brought an unwanted blush to Darcy's cheeks. Briefly, she averted her eyes, but in an inevitable moment of audacity, she returned them with her chin lifted. She was surprised to see him standing, his long, lean frame moving forward with measured steps. It was in movement that Darcy was always struck by the difference between the brothers. While Thor was broad, large, and almost scarily imposing the other folded open into languid, liquid grace.

"What type of movie?" He asked carefully as he came to a stop a few feet away.

Darcy blinked up at his towering form, "Um, its call "Inception"—all about dreams."

"Dreams," he echoed.

"Yeah, those things that happen when you sleep. Images in your mind." _Shut up, Darcy_, she yelled internally. _He knows what dreams are._ Did gods even dream? She didn't know, but made a note to ask Jane.

To her ever-loving surprise, Loki leaned down and slipped off both boots and stepped into the pit next to her. He dropped elegantly on the cushions and Darcy had to bite her lip so that she wouldn't say something completely idiotic. Instead, she reached for the remote and pressed play, waiting with some anxiety while the movie queued up. After a few moments, every eye in the pit was focused on the team and their strange and eye-opening journey. Jane passed her the popcorn absently, and Darcy took a hand full. She then offered it to Loki, who declined with _the_ _most_ regal shake of his head.

The movie played on, and the work of the day seemed to catch up with her as Darcy's eyes began to droop. She struggled in vain to focus on the movie, but very quickly, Darcy fell into sleep. Sometime in the night, however, she woke. The TV was off and the whole room was quiet, save for the breaths of two other people on either side of her. Craning her neck, Darcy righted her glasses and glanced from side to side. To her right lay Tony Stark, one arm thrown over his eyes as he lounged against a pile of pillows behind him. To her left lay Loki, resting on the fold of his arm facing her. Thor and Jane had secreted off to their room, leaving the three of them conked out together. In any other situation, Darcy would have quipped something sarcastic, but, as it happened, she couldn't seem to make her clouded mind work while staring at the relaxed face of Loki.

With the lines of stress gone from his skin, he looked somehow younger (if gods could look young) and though the shiny black of his hair had fallen over his brow, she could tell that it no longer carried the weight of shame for his actions. Darcy blinked slowly, the man had been driven to absolute madness by something or other and had lashed out at everything and everyone he loved. Hell, he had tried to subjugate a whole planet just to appease the emptiness in himself. It was some serious teen angst shit and Darcy, while unable to truly empathize, could understand it. Was this how most gods gain catharsis through their final act of rebellion?

When Darcy awoke the second time, the sun was streaming through the windows and she was alone. Groaning, she pulled herself to standing and meandered to her room where she stripped down and showered before dressing again for work. SHIELD HQ for the US was a long walk through some seriously creepy tunnels before she had to palm-print her way into the outer chambers. Her cubicle was one of about twenty with a high tech computer and a phone with more features than she dared to use.

Slinking to her chair, Darcy powered on the computer and rifled through the stack of folders left in her inbox. There were a few reports to run and some minor research articles to check out, but nothing too exciting. There was also a folder from Jane with notes to be typed and arranged into a short presentation. Out of love for her friend, Darcy started on that first. Frankly, the work lately had been monotonous and _so boring_, but her paycheck never failed to clear the bank and who else could say that they lived vicariously through a force of super human heroes? While not exactly satisfying, Darcy couldn't seem to make herself complain too loudly in front of anyone important—peer discussions around the water cooler were fair game, though.

After working clear through lunch (or three spins of her newest downloads), she had managed to power through all her assignments for the day. With a sigh, she pulled off her glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes. God, she missed college. At least then she had some suitably raucous parties to look forward to on the weekend. There were no parties at SHIELD, though Tony had managed to swank it up from time to time when the mood struck him. That mood struck him less and less as he settled into life with Pepper and his responsibilities with the Avengers grew. The whole team looked worn out, and Darcy worried for them, but who was she to question the decisions of the director.

Shutting down her computer, she piled her stuff into a large, slouchy bag and slung it over her shoulder. She then nodded to a few of her coworkers and headed back into the tunnel system that connected the mansion to the headquarters. The walk always gave her time to come back to herself after spending so many hours hunched over numbers and analyzing research. Darcy got to leave that slightly bored, frustrated woman behind and pick back up her old jovial self in a refreshing change of pace. By the time the doors opened to the main floor, Darcy could smile genuinely.

Stepping out towards the living room, Darcy pulled a novel from her bag and flopped onto the excessively large couch, turning to her bookmark. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a faint whir of dark hair that indicated she wasn't alone. A glance found Mr. Broody-pants lying similarly sprawled over the opposite couch with a tome held deftly in one hand. For about a minute, Darcy battled with the decision to stay or go. She didn't want to butt in on his privacy, but the couch was just so comfortable and he really didn't seem to mind. In fact, he hadn't yet looked up from the page he was reading.

They—well, he—read in silence for several more minutes before Clint ambled through the doors, bow in hand. He shrugged off his quiver, waving hello. Darcy waved back, twisting to sit upright on the couch.

"Long day at the office?" She asked.

"Yeah, had a few scenarios to run with Bruce. Safety precautions and all."

Darcy nodded, "I get that. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt on a mission."

Clint rolled his eyes, "Bit ironic, though, not getting hurt on missions. Seems every time I turn around, I'm getting shot at." He inspected the bow, tugging at the joints and thumbing the edges.

"Most of the time, you do start it," Loki chimed in softly, closing the folds of his book, one finger slipped between the pages to mark his spot.

Clint shrugged, "S'my job." He shifted his weight to regard Loki, "And don't think I haven't forgotten that I owe you one."

Darcy's eyebrows rose to her hairline as she watched the exchange, sure she was going to end out as collateral damage on one of those damned reports. Loki, however, smiled, and she felt her stomach flip a little as it charmed more than scared her. She'd seen that same look on a child she babysat in high school right after he super glued her to the dining room chair. It meant no good, but at least it wasn't aimed at her. She wondered if she could ask them to pause so she could make popcorn.

Clint's eyes narrowed, his stance widening just a smidge as they faced off. Loki remained relaxed, sitting on the couch with the book still held loosely in one hand. Darcy gripped the cushions so tightly in her fingers that she felt the threads snap lightly. For a few seconds, the air in the room thickened until is rippled between the three, but Clint eventually relented turning lightly. As he walked the bow snapped lightly in his hands, unbalancing him so that he stumbled into the wall. His glare would have set fire to Darcy's clothes, but Loki took it in stride, acknowledging the misstep with a tilt of his head.

When the action dissipated, Darcy licked her lips and turned her attention to the god of mischief, who had leaned back into the cushions and resumed reading. "That was a cheap shot, don't you think?"

"Pardon?" He replied, eyes that she now realized were the purest green she had ever seen rose to glance at her suddenly stunned face.

"Um, the bow thing. If you were going to mess with him, why not _kapush!_ one of his arrows in the quiver?"

Loki leaned forward, sliding the book in hands to the coffee table between them. "That's part of the game, Miss Lewis. Building the anticipation to climax."

Darcy swallowed back a sharp reply about Freud and shrugged, "Guess you know what you're doing, god of mischief."

"Indeed," he drawled in return. Then, "Can we watch another movie?"

Darcy's face opened in surprise, unsure if this was one of his games, but his face held no twist of snark and his tone didn't indicate a taunt. "Okay. Any movie you want to watch in particular?"

His hands, long and angular, flexed open so that the palms tipped to the ceiling, "I leave it to your discretion."

Smiling, Darcy disappeared to her room and pulled a DVD from her top-ten pile, returning to the living room to see Loki reclining in the pit. Her pace slowed as she took in his relaxed state, stretched out just off to the side. For the first time, she noticed that he was dressed in casual clothes—linen slacks and a deep green sweater pull over. He looked…normal, his long dark hair curling slightly behind his ears. If she hadn't seen it, herself, she would have never been able to believe that he was capable of waging battle that would rival the Avengers.

Stepping her way into the pit, Darcy inserted the disk and edged back to recline a short distance from Loki. "What are we watching tonight?"

"Cry Baby," Darcy replied, pulling a loose pillow to hug against her stomach. "It's a musical. Singing and dancing and ridiculously campy jokes."

Loki nodded, "A comedy."

"Definitely." The movie played on while they sat in comfortable silence, and Darcy snuck glances at Loki when the funniest parts played. She never got more than a smirk, but that was enough to sate her curiosity. About halfway in, Tony strode through the room, sunglasses perched above his brow. He made it ten steps before he noticed them sitting together.

"Whatcha up to, sweet pea?" He called, setting a duffel bag down by the couch.

Darcy smiled, "Just watching a movie."

"Any good? You know, the stereo on that thing is pitch perfect."

"It's really rocking my socks over here," She replied. Then, to Loki, "How about you?"

He looked hesitant to answer, but finally nodded, "The sound is…good."

Tony looked like he was going to say more, but Jarvis interrupted, "Sir there is a leak in one of the cooling components downstairs."

"Well, fix it," Tony shot back.

"I'm afraid it will require more dexterity than I am capable of producing."

Looking thoroughly annoyed, Tony stomped out of the room to fix the problem leaving Loki and Darcy watching his back fly from view. Darcy glanced at him, shrugging before returning her attention to the movie.

"I have questions," Loki murmured as it rounded to a close.

"Shoot."

His expression looked confused for just a moment, then he seemed to dismiss it and plow forward. "The main characters are excluded because they are different. But, in the end, there comes a mutual understanding."

"Yeah, kinda, but that probably isn't your question, is it?" She urged lightly.

Loki shifted to face her, leaning on an elbow, and the position only seemed to emphasize the thinness of his body and the sharp angle of his cheeks as the dim light of the TV shone across them. Darcy had to fight for just a moment to focus on what he was saying and not what he looked like.

"It was too easy. How can a character whose life seems to be centered on mayhem and destruction be redeemed in…less than an hour?"

Darcy smiled gently, "It's a movie. In order to enjoy them, we go through a suspension of disbelief. We fool ourselves into disregarding the laws of life so that the movie can make sense. In real life, this could have ended badly—very badly—but… I think, with time, the ending in there," she pointed to the screen, "Is possible."

He seemed to digest this little tidbit of pseudo-wisdom, his eyes flicking off into the distance. Darcy lifted to sitting, brushing her hair back from her face. It needed a cut, but she found that she liked it long, hanging like a curtain down her back. It was heavy, curling wildly in some places, limply in others. Somehow, though, it protected her as she tiptoed around superheroes and superegos, alike. No, she wouldn't cut it, even if it saved her life.

"I suppose I'll be heading to bed now. Early day tomorrow," she sighed. They rose in synch, padding out from the pit with unsteady gaits. When she stumbled at the lip of the pit, Loki gripped her elbow lightly, easing her to solid ground. "Thank you," she said, receiving only a nod in return.

"Hey," Darcy said a little too loudly, her mouth way ahead of her mind, "We should do this again."

Loki blinked down at her, clearly calculating her intent.

"I miss having friends," Darcy offered lamely. That seemed to hit home, and even though his mouth never moved, his eyes smiled brightly.

"Then, we will do this again," he replied, the smile finally reaching his mouth.

The next day, while she sat hunched over yet another report, Tony came striding into her cubicle wearing an expensive suit and carrying two Styrofoam cups of coffee. She took one of the cups gratefully and asked why he had paid a visit to a lackey at a computer.

"How would you like to be my assistant?"

Darcy choked, gripping the cup in her hands tightly, "You serious?"

"Absolutely. Pack your stuff, let's go."

Looking about wildly, she cried out to his retreating back, "I can't just leave!"

"You can and will. Come on, sweet pea, we have work to do!" Tony replied, waving his coffee in the air as he sauntered away.

Darcy shoved her myriad of materials into her bag and skipped after him, trying desperately not to spill her coffee, but managing to coat her sleeve in the slowly cooling liquid. By the time they reached the lab, Tony had given her an expensive looking phone and a folder of data for input as well as a list of things not to touch while they worked. She took in as much as she could, still bewildered by the offer. For two years, she had been plodding away at SHEILD's offices and now she was suddenly going to be Tony Stark's assistant. None of it made sense, and none of it had to when she finally saw the lab.

Decked out in only the best equipment, it shone with vibrant, electric touches of silver that reflected back on one another to create a sight so bright and wondrous that she half heartedly wondered if she'd died and gone to techie heaven. Tony showed her to a desk and, after speaking with the mild mannered Bruce for a moment, dropped a book so wide and heavy in front of her that she automatically reached beneath the desk to catch it as it should have at least cracked the glass.

"Read up, I'll need this finished by Monday," he said, turning from her to press against the solid frame of the desk. From his pocket, he produced a stylus of sorts and, as he touched the stylus to the desk, a notepad application popped up, ready for data input. Darcy took the stylus numbly, feeling the infinite possibilities widen before her oh so temptingly.

"What am I looking for?" She croaked, touching the book gingerly.

"Anything, everything," He replied, distracted by something on his own phone, "Just pick out what you think is interesting."

And so she did. She read through pages that were so faded that she had to squint, turning each leaf tenderly as they tended to crack against her fingers. While Bruce and Tony debated and even argued across the room, Darcy remained engrossed in the book. It detailed all kinds of demons, how to conjure them, essentials for dark magic, and how to get rid of them. Raised Catholic, Darcy had a faint idea of the need for priests and the rites of exorcisms, but this was some seriously deep stuff. Demons, she read, were capable of really anything as long as it caused the victim pain—they even killed people on a regular basis. They could be controlled through magic, but there was always a price, usually blood. Darcy shivered as the descriptions of the demons were laid out before her, the stench of shit and blood, the manifestations of sounds, the psychosomatic responses of fear and dread. The darkness that surrounded them was total and complete—and inescapable for the unprepared.

As Darcy moved on to the next chapter in the book, Tony leaned over her work, flicking over the pages that fluttered around her desk. He swiped some away to his own personal computer, glancing up to make sure they took to the screen.

"Looks good, Darcy," He said, tapping a finger against the panel to turn it off. "Let's go home, ok. You've done enough for the day."

"Thanks, boss," she replied, "But, I can really do more if you need me to."

Tony shook his head, "Can't have you burned out on me. Besides, I had Jarvis order Thai. You like Thai, right?"

Darcy smiled, "I like food, type of said food doesn't really matter."

"Cool. Bruce, I got you those noodles you like. And," he paused at the door, swinging his arms out, "I got the fight on the big screen."

Bruce removed his glasses, folding them into the pocket of his shirt, "Thanks. You really didn't have to order me anything."

"Nonsense," Tony huffed, "I've seen your medical charts, your metabolism rivals our resident god 'o' thunder. " He smirked, "So I got you two."

With a last look at the huge book on her desk, Darcy shouldered her bag and followed the two men out of the lab and into the outer chambers. They crossed the room, Darcy trailing behind, having a hard time keeping up with their longer limbs. In the tunnels, her new phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She pulled it out, touching the screen to see an email from Tony. A quick glance at his back indicated that he wasn't paying any attention to her. The email read: Let me handle this. Confused, she looked back up at him, her brows furrowing behind her glasses.

"Hey, Lewis," came a voice from behind them.

Darcy turned at the sound of her name, spying her direct supervisor from cubicle world hurrying after them. She waved awkwardly, bouncing on the balls of her feet as he caught up with the group.

"What do you think you're doing? Someone just told me that you left in the middle of the morning and didn't return. There is a stack of reports on your desk that are top priority. Get back there and finish them." While his voice verged on anger, Darcy had never been able to really fear him as a supervisor. Mr. Sanders stood a few inches below her, his body type thick with soft skin. He wasn't the type to really enforce rules, he left that to the higher ups, but he still carried this self-inflated sense of superiority that annoyed her incredibly.

Tony stepped forward, "Unfortunately, Ms. Lewis no longer works for you. I have hired her as my assistant. She works for me now."

Sanders spluttered, "You can't do that."

"I just did," Tony replied with a smirk, "Run along, now, reports are waiting." Then he reached out and grasped Darcy's arm, pulling her away from Sanders towards the opposite end of the tunnel.

"Thanks," Darcy said as they headed upstairs, "Pretty awesome of you."

"I am awesome," Tony replied, "But it's gracious of you to notice."

Darcy shoved him playfully, "Don't get full of yourself."

He chuckled, stepping out into the main room of the mansion, "If there is anything someone should be full of, it's me."

Rolling her eyes, Darcy gave Bruce a sympathetic look. He had to deal with Tony's self-absorbed witticisms and strange behavior twenty-four hours a day. She didn't know how he did it, let alone got any of his own work done at the same time. Their food was waiting for them on a nearby counter, and Tony divided it between them, with extra helpings for Bruce. Then, all three sat on the couch in front of the wall-to-wall screen. Darcy picked through her food, munching happily while Tony tried to get Bruce to reenact certain punches and moves from the fight. She blinked back tears of laughter as they tussled, calling out orders and 'get him' occasionally to egg them on. Later, when she was tucked safely in bed, she began to think of this as the most fun she'd had in months, possibly since moving in.

The days passed in a strange kind of routine, Darcy would go to work, Tony would prod and poke at Bruce, and she would sit engrossed in book after book, her notes taking up almost all the space on her desk. Each new book was on some aspect of magic, demons, or ritualistic rites of passage. She asked Tony time after time for some kind of direction, but he left her to it, neither guiding nor issuing any orders on what she was looking for, and it was getting frustrating. After, like, the fiftieth book, she finally decided to look for answers, herself.

Walking down an unfamiliar hallway, Darcy began to question whether or not this was a good idea. She hadn't seen Loki is almost a week, and honestly she didn't know if he would take kindly to her questions or even to her very presence. Stopping in front of the door, Darcy hesitated, her hand curled inches from the wood. With a surge of extra confidence, she forced herself to knock three times, the sound ringing hollowly in her ears. What followed was several beats of silence, and a kind of relief seemed to fill Darcy's chest as the thought that he might not even be there floated through her mind.

As she turned to leave, the door swung open to reveal Loki's slightly confused face. When he caught sight of her awkward form, he smiled, which forced some of her hesitation to dissipate.

"Darcy," he said, "What can I do for you?"

"Movie?" She said, holding up a DVD. "And," she drug the word out, biting at the inside of her cheek, "I have some questions. Nobody else will give me an answer."

Folding his arms across his chest, Loki regarded her levelly. Darcy's breath stilled in her lungs while he seemed to come to a conclusion, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. "I will answer what I can, Miss Lewis, but there are some things…that are better left unsaid."

Darcy nodded, pushing her glasses further up on her nose, "Got it. Say the word, and we'll stop. We can shake on it, if you want." She extended her hand between them, waiting for a returning gesture. When he gripped her palm, she was shocked by the cool temperature of his skin and the tingle it sent up her arm and down her spine. As quickly as it started, it ended as he dropped his hand. Darcy swallowed and stepped back, falling into stride beside him as they moved back towards the living room.

It wasn't until they had settled into the pit that Loki finally spoke, "What are your questions?"

Darcy pressed play on the remote, setting the volume low more as background noise than anything else. "I'm doing research for Tony—he hired me as an assistant, but that's a whole other story that is way too weird to really explain—and he keeps putting more and more books in front of me, but he won't tell me what I'm looking for or why I'm even reading them."

She pulled out her work pad, powering it up and spreading some of her notes out between them. "All the books are on magic, demons, witchcraft, and, you know, generally icky stuff. But there isn't any focus. It's all spread out and I can't make any sense of it."

Loki read over her scrawls, his eyes flicking from page to page as he absorbed the information, "You've done quite a bit of work."

"Yeah," she sighed, "Every day, all day, this is what I do." Darcy lay out on her stomach, resting her head on her hand, "Not that it's boring or anything, it's all majorly cool to read."

His eyes settled on her face, the focus a little unnerving, but Darcy held his gaze brazenly, if a bit foolishly. "You're interested in magic," he said, his voice very low.

Darcy shrugged, "Magic is interesting, as a subject. And I'm curious about it, if that's what you mean."

Loki's tongue peeked out from between his teeth, running along the line of his lower lip. Darcy had to resist the urge to trace that same line with her fingertips. It wasn't fair, he was just sitting there, all gorgeous and she had to sit there and pretend not to care. She should seriously earn a medal for going this long without hitting on the man—god—whatever.

"I believe I can help you," he said finally, leaning back on an elbow, his posture relaxing as he regarded her.

Darcy, shaking with reigned in excitement; fist pumped her victory into the empty air above her. "Score! Okay, so can you explain this ritual here? It's supposed to call a demon, but the end result looks like the demon is actually calling you."

They talked shop for a while, Loki pointing out a couple of magical idiosyncrasies and explaining the runic system of the older cultures. As he spoke, Darcy watched him grow more and more animated his gestures widening and expanding so that the picture he painted was larger than life. It seemed as if he literally glowed from within as they chatted, ignoring the movie playing off to the side completely. And then, the stories came. Tales of trickery and pranks from his childhood, and little episodes from her own that made her believe that there might not be much of a difference between them after all.

"I can't believe you got Thor to believe he had to eat a whole pig, or he'd anger the pig gods!" She crowed, rocking to her side and clutching her stomach in laughter.

"We were six," Loki replied, as if to explain the believability of the incident. "And Thor is very trusting."

Darcy wiped tears from beneath her glasses, "He really is, but that's part of why Jane loves him so much—big heart and all."

Loki sobered a little, his smile sliding slowly off his mouth. Darcy reached over and grabbed a loose pillow, tossing it at him gently. "Hey, no sad faces. I command it."

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching in amusement, "You think to command me?"

Biting her lip, Darcy eyed him for a moment, "I don't think anyone really could, even if they wanted to take you on."

"You'd be right," he replied, moving to sitting. "I've never been very good with authority." Darcy rolled her eyes, knowing full well that subverting those around him was more of a pastime than anything else in his life. While most of it was good natured humor, she could definitely see a wicked streak that ran through him, pushing to keep one upping himself until he had gained the victory.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "You'd be a great diplomat."

He chuckled, "Not really my area."

"Have you tried it? I bet you could talk anyone into agreeing with you, even if they didn't want to," Darcy replied with a thoughtful look. He must have gotten a hell of a lot of ass on Asgard. A choked sound drew her attention back to the present. "Oh, _god,_ I said that out loud, didn't I?"

The blush across his cheeks was endearing, and probably matched the blush that spread all the way down her cheeks to her neck and chest. Darcy covered her face with her hands, shaking her head from side to side in embarrassment.

"I am so sorry," she said lowly, "Sometimes I can't keep my inside voice… you know, inside."

Loki's laughter did something unexpected to her stomach, which only made her bury her face further into her fingers, trying to think of ways to hide under a rock for, like, forever. She peeked out at him, squinting at his joyously amused expression, the corners of his eyes crinkled with his laughter. Inwardly, she was relieved that he wasn't insulted—outwardly, she sniffed back her embarrassment and faced him.

"Actually," he began, "My brother probably got 'a hell of a lot of ass.' I was more… selective in my bed partners."

His admission only made her blush more, and by then she couldn't even look him in the eye. An errant idea of what it would take to make that selection process filtered to the front of her mind, and she shoved it back viciously. There was no room for that right now, possibly not ever. Darcy couldn't have her big mouth running away with her when she was supposed to be helping out Tony. Still, it was nice to know that he wasn't a complete douche with women, though, 'selective' was a word that could be debated semantically.

"Ah," Darcy said finally, "My bad, dude, I sometimes say things that go through my mind without really thinking about them. Generally, they are less embarrassing than," she waved vaguely between them. "And, generally, I'm not prying into other people's sex lives—unless, you know, its Jane, because before Thor, she had one hell of a dry spell."

Loki's brows furrowed, "Dry spell?"

Darcy glanced down, "Yeah, she went a long time without… oh, _you know_ what I'm talking about." She could tell that he did by the barely checked smirk on his lips. "You're going to use this against me someday, aren't you?"

"Possibly," he replied, "I must admit, the blush is very becoming."

Darcy pointed at him, "See? That's what I mean about getting ass! It just rolls right on off your tongue, doesn't it?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Loki murmured, one hand waving the statement away.

Darcy's eyes narrowed, "The hell you don't."

Loki's expression turned almost sinister in its mischief, and his head canted downward just enough that he was looking up at her through his lashes. "I would like to see you prove it."

Rising to the challenge, Darcy leaned forward, bracing herself on one palm, "One day, I will."

A few days later, Darcy sat alone in the lab with yet another ancient old book opened in front of her while she took notes on anything that looked interesting. Her earphones planted firmly in each ear, she had created an almost meditative state that made her much more efficient. The text was confusing, at best, with its winding words and its repetitious and redundant stanzas. No matter how many times she read the page, nothing made sense. Sighing, she pushed from the desk and jerked out her earbuds.

The tones of her work cell filled the suddenly silent room, and Darcy touched the screen to answer it, "Hello?"

"Need you in the main room, Sweet Pea. Bring your notes," Tony said, hanging up almost immediately.

Hopping up from her chair, Darcy grabbed her work pad and phone, rushing from the room towards to upper levels. The elevator ride seemed eternal, the faint hum ringing loudly in her ears as she wondered just what she was supposed to bring to the, literal, table of superheroes. As she stepped out of the doors, Darcy was met by four SHEILD agents in full uniform.

"Whoa, guys," she said carefully, "Just me."

They stepped to the side, and down a set of stairs she could see a group of heads turn her way. Darcy shuffled forward, gripping her pad to her chest as she approached. It seemed that the whole team was assembled around a large circular table, headed up by Nick Fury who looked at her from his place standing behind The Captain.

"Ms. Lewis, have a seat," he said, indicating an open chair near her.

Darcy sat down, gingerly placing her work pad in front of her and glancing at Tony. His expression was reassuring, and Darcy took some comfort in the knowledge that he was there and was confident in her. She pushed her hair back from her face, bouncing lightly on her chair.

"So…" she said, dragging the syllable out, her mouth forming a small 'o'.

Nick paced around the circumference of the table, touching the backs of the chairs as he went. Darcy had to force the image of duck, duck, goose from her mind as he went. This was work time and she needed to be serious.

"I guess you are probably wondering why you have been researching the supernatural," Nick asserted lightly. "We have a situation, and it's not something we have ever prepared for." Leaning over her, he tapped on her pad, bringing up a network she had never seen before and scrolling down to a set of pictures. "There have been a string of murders, seemingly sporadic in nature, but all with the same sign carved into their chests. We thought this was the work of a serial killer of sorts, but now…" He tapped on a picture.

Darcy gasped as she looked at a body so badly mutilated that she wasn't sure of gender, let alone an identity. To the side was a symbol, perpendicular lines, four over three, that looked drawn in the victim's blood. Nick paced away, his arms behind his back as he made another round.

"The murders are becoming more frequent, and the number of victims is increasing. The last incident involved an entire family—husband, wife, and two children aged six and eight."

Looking up, Darcy could feel her face contorting in sympathy, she held back her normal instinct to chatter and forced herself to continue listening.

Nick stopped walking and leveled a look at her that made her insides go cold, "We think this is supernatural. And we need your research to pin down what kind of demonic forces are at work, and who is controlling them." He leaned over the table at her, palms shoulder length apart, bracing his weight. "Every day is critical, and every day someone could die."

"Way to put the pressure on, Fury," Tony said with a biting tone. "Scaring the girl isn't going to make her go any faster."

Nick's eye glanced to the side, "Ms. Lewis needs to know the score."

"She barely even knows the game," Tony shot back. "We're basically dropping her in blind."

"We are all blind in this!" Nick yelled, his voice cutting through the air and slicing at Darcy's skin. "Do you think I would bring in a civilian to government affairs if I could help it? If we don't stop this thing now, we may not be able to stop it."

Tony sobered for a moment before turning to Darcy, "You'll be sent to one of the sites of the murders, with a security team, of course. One of us isn't going to be able to get in unnoticed. You will take pictures, you will take notes, and you will get out. Understood?"

"Yeah," Darcy breathed out, biting at her lip in confusion. "Um, what am I looking for?"

"Anything you find interesting," Tony replied, leaning back in his chair.

Darcy rolled her eyes, once again dropped into nothingness and expected to get results. Sighing, she ran her eyes over the people around her, each one capable of killing, maiming, and succeeding in victory. And yet, she was the one they called when they couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. It was completely cool, completely weird, and completely bat-shit crazy. Dropping her eyes, Darcy looked at the picture in front of her, the blood spattered all over every surface. There was no indication of how to beat this…whatever it was. But, maybe she could be an asset to the team, maybe she could help them figure it out.

**Okay, so our D and L are a little subdued, but I hope to put them into supernatural hijinks. Mwahahahah!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second installment. I'm moving through this story at a fairly rapid pace-at least, rapid for me. I usually get a few pages done a day, or I go scene by scene. We're going to be exploring the D/L relationship a little deeper, here, but I want it to unfold naturally.**

The house smelled absolutely rank, like death and shit and what Darcy could only term evil. It sat heavily on her tongue and turned her stomach over in her abdomen. The security team around her stood in silent watch as she picked through the rooms, taking pictures of absolutely everything in sight, not matter how ordinary. Not knowing what she was looking for, she kept it as random as possible so that maybe she would catch something, anything that could help. She couldn't bring herself to go near the blood stain in the center of the room, its tendrils reaching out towards her with clawed fingers. Instead, she stepped around it over and over, trying to get every angle in the room.

As an afterthought, she took a few pictures from each of the windows in the room, focusing on the downward angles towards the street. It was a picturesque view, suburbia at its best and brightest. Kids were riding bikes down the street, a walking mailman was delivering letters into mailboxes, and none of them had a clue that a grisly murder had taken place in the two-story Victorian at the end of the road. Dropping her eyes, Darcy noticed a weird dusting of something yellowish in color along the window sill. Pulling a sterile swab and plastic tube from her bag, she ran it over the dust so that Bruce could test it. It was probably pollen from the overhanging tree, but she thought it best to be careful.

After scouring the area one more time, she nodded to the team and stepped out into the crisp summer air. The ride back was solemn as Darcy watched the scenery fly by through the window. She couldn't get the image of that bloodstain out of her mind, the symbol beside it. The ominous feeling from inside the house seemed to stay with her as she sat in the backseat, following along like a bad omen. It hung around her as a heavy blanket, soaking into her clothing with apprehension and confusion.

It took three hours and one fast food run to get back to the mansion, and Darcy was beginning to feel the fatigue of travel. She trudged into the living room and flung her body onto the couch with a groan, her bag falling to the side to thump against the floor. Images of blood, dirt, and brokenness flashed before her eyes as she tried very hard to forget the house and what lay inside. Sighing, she rose to sitting, sliding the strap of her bag off her shoulder and resting her forearms on her knees. Reaching inside her jacket, she pulled her phone from an inner pocket and flipped through the pictures stored in an album. Gruesome as they were, so couldn't stop looking at them, analyzing them for some kind of clue. She flipped through them over and over, sliding back and forth over the crime scene, studying each angle and view.

It was on her fourth round of viewing that she noticed something a little odd. The image was at the window, overlooking the street—but that wasn't what was interesting. In the reflection of the window, there was a figure, standing just over her shoulder, staring right into the lens of the camera. Darcy swallowed and zoomed in on the image, but the small screen just couldn't make it wide enough for her to have a really good look. What she saw, though, was enough to send her heart to pumping.

Jumping up, Darcy sprinted through the halls into the tunnels beneath the house. She didn't stop running until she had burst through the doors of the lab, screaming for Tony's attention. He looked up from his work, shocked, but seemingly not really surprised at her showing up.

"What's up?" He called.

Not able to speak for lack of breath, Darcy threw her phone down on the table, tapped out the security code and brought up the image, expanding it so that it filled a quarter of the space. Then, she pulled the stylus from its holder and circled the figure.

"Got it," she wheezed, shoving a hand through her heavy mass of hair and pulling her glasses from her face. She watched Tony's blurry form look over the image as she cleaned the lenses, replacing the light plastic over her eyes. His expression did not bode well. In fact, Darcy had never quite seen the smirk slip from his face so completely in all the time she had known him. For the first time, Darcy saw how serious Tony could be.

"Did you know this was there?" He asked, running filters over the picture.

Darcy shook her head, "I didn't know until I looked at the pictures again.

Tony nodded, "Did it touch you?"

"No, I'm fine. Like I said, completely oblivious until just now. I came right down to show you."

Tony sat down in a nearby chair, giving her a grave look, "Well, I've sent it to the team to see if anyone has seen it before. Fury will probably have someone try to figure it out."

"It's good, though, right? We got a picture of it, we can figure out what it is," Darcy said, confused at how dejected Tony looked. "That's what you wanted, right?"

Tony shook his head, "I wanted it to be some narcissistic psychopath with a vendetta wearing spandex. This," he dropped a hand to the table just to the side of the image, "Is not something solid, real. We can't fight a ghost."

"Sure we can," Darcy replied lightly, "Just need a priest."

Just then the main screen in the room lit up with Director Fury's face, "Stark, Banner, Ms. Lewis, you're needed upstairs."

Darcy glanced at Tony, then Bruce, who looked mildly annoyed, but was turning off the screen in front of him anyways. Once again, they marched to the meeting room where Fury sat alone at the main table.

"There have been three more murders," he said without preamble. "Here are their locations, along with the previous murders." A map was pulled up on a nearby screen and a slew of dots sprang up around the city.

"They're becoming more frequent," Bruce said, folding his hands in front of him, "And more centralized."

"Correct," Fury replied, "It took some time, but I was able to get the medical records of all of the victims so far."

"Did you find anything?" Darcy piped in, moving forward.

"Yes, and no." Fury said, standing. "Each victim had a visit to the same doctor's office, some for vaccinations, others for injuries, and some for a simple check-up."

"Then, we check out the doctor," Tony said firmly.

Fury shook his head, "There are four doctors involved, and none of them share patients within the practice. Could be a coincidence, could be something else entirely."

Darcy piped up, "We need to check it out, anyways."

"Thanks for volunteering," Fury said sharply.

She blinked, mentally kicking herself for opening her big mouth. "Fine," she said, relenting. "How am I supposed to go about investigating the place?"

An eyebrow raised, Fury shrugged, "However you need to."

Sirens blared overhead and Darcy had to cover her ears to stop the noise from breaking her eardrums. As she knelt over, she saw Tony and Bruce's shoes bolt out of sight. Looking up, she caught Tony being assembled right in front of her eyes and Bruce tapping away frantically at a computer. Fury called out something she couldn't understand and then she was being hauled off by SHEILD agents, pulled firmly away from the action and towards the tunnels. The Captain and Natasha burst by in synch, heading away from her at a sprint—which was the complete opposite of where she thought they should go. But, she supposed, it was just another day at the office for them.

Safely ensconced in the protected layers of the mansion, Darcy found Jane sitting in the 'love nest' waiting for her, popcorn readily made and a movie being queued.

"Thought you'd never get here," Jane said softly.

Darcy smiled, "What happened?"

"I think there was an attack on the White House," Jane replied in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh," Darcy said in return, "Well, pass the popcorn, its going to be a long night."

The sun fell beneath the horizon and the moon swung high into the air. They were three movies in and the team still hadn't returned from the fight. Darcy could tell Jane was getting nervous, so she barreled right into something she knew would be an epic distraction.

"So, Loki and I have been hanging out," she said, tossing another kernel of popcorn (their second bag) into her mouth.

Jane's eyes rounded so wide that Darcy thought they would pop right out of her head, "What?"

"Loki, me, hanging out," she replied, enunciating every syllable. "He's not a bad guy—even though he kind of _was_ a bad guy."

Jane thought on it for a moment, "You guys are friends now."

"I guess," Darcy said, shrugging, "He hasn't threatened my life or anything, so that's nice."

"Oh," Jane whispered, "Well, as long as we're telling secrets, I should let you know that Thor and I are going to get married."

Darcy's jaw dropped wide, "You're shitting me! That's…that's wonderful. When?"

Jane's face blushed and glowed in the low light, "Six months or so. He wants to take me home to meet the parents."

"You're going to meet, like, _the_ parents, the rulers of Asgard?" Darcy urged, face wide with excitement, "Can I go? Do I even get to attend these things? How are you going to get there?"

Laughing, Jane replied, "I have no idea, but you're going to be there when it happens. What would I do without my sidekick?"

It was during this moment that Darcy remembered all the long nights they spent together, storm chasing and running numbers, back when she was in college. Darcy had thought of her as a boss back then, but it was now that she realized the Jane was probably her longest running friendship, ever. She was a little too strange for her peers, and too naïve for her elders. Jane fit somewhere in between that, with the same strangeness and affinity for the unknown. In fact, Jane had blossomed under SHEILD's tutelage and Thor's supportive urging. Reaching out, Darcy threw her arms around Jane and hugged tightly, happy that her friend could find someone who not only treated her right, but wasn't trying to hold her down.

Jane pulled back, "You let me get off subject. Tell me everything is okay for you, with Loki hanging around. Thor says he can be a hand full when he wants to."

"Like I said," Darcy replied, laughing, "No threats to my life, and he mostly aims his mischief elsewhere."

"He better," Jane remarked, "I need you spry for the wedding."

Darcy sighed, leaning back into the cushions, "So, a fall wedding, is it? Does Fury know? We might need to pencil it in between world take-overs."

Jane laughed, but her attention was diverted by the doors opening and the Avengers returning from their mission. "How did it go?" She called.

Apparently, it did not go well. Darcy could see that Tony's suit had taken a beating and that Thor looked positively _fatigued_, which she had never really thought could happen. Steve's suit was torn in a few places and Natasha walked with a limp. Clint held her to his side as they walked together, his bow snapped in half, hanging beside him. Even Bruce looked worse for wear, holding his pants up around his waist carefully. Desperately, Darcy looked for one final body to enter, biting back her words.

Loki trudged in, a gash over his left cheek and holding his abdomen. For several breaths, Darcy watched him walk towards a chair and slump down. It wasn't until his eyes lifted to see her face that she could manage to move into action. Rushing to the wall, she grabbed the first aid kit and hauled it to the floor, pulling bandages and gauze out and shoving antibacterial ointment in her pockets. While Jane worked on Natasha, she set about checking the other members, handing out band aids and cutting away torn bits of uniforms. She saved Loki for last because, honestly, she wasn't sure if he would welcome the help.

Turns out, he was as compliant as a tiny kitten (granted, a tiny kitten who could incinerate her with a flick of his wrist, but a tiny kitten nonetheless) while she dabbed ointment on the cut over his cheekbone and checked the movement in one of his wrists. Carefully, she helped him out of the heavy jacket and armor, pulling pieces of torn leather from his skin, even as he hissed out breaths. The underlining was surprisingly soft as she lifted it, spying a large and greenish bruise on his side. With a look that asked for patience, Darcy ran from the room to a kitchen supply closet, pulling white vinegar and a rag from the shelves. When she returned, Jane was finishing up with Natasha's sprained ankle and was working on sewing up Clint's arm.

Kneeling down beside him, Darcy indicated that Loki should hold the fabric of his shirt from his skin while she applied at rag soaked in the vinegar. When his nose wrinkled she supplied, "It will help with the bruising."

"Oh," was all he said as he watched her work, showing no resistance to moving as she tried to see if there were further injuries.

Tony ambled over, a glass of dark liquor in hand, "No first aid for me, thanks, I'm good."

Darcy looked up at him, "You don't have a scratch, do you?"

"Nope," he said with a smile, "The suit plays."

She laughed as she applied another bandaged to the back of Loki's arm, "That it does. Unfortunately, no one else here has an indestructible metal shield around them at all times."

"It's not indestructible. The jolly green giant, there, gave it a run for its literal money that last time we had it out." There was a biting sarcasm in the tone that made Darcy glance carefully up at Loki, even as she finished applying the final bandage. His gaze was averted, and she could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed _something_ back. "Just sayin'," Tony spoke lowly as he walked away.

Standing, Darcy gave the room a once-over, seeing how each member of the team was doing. Jane was speaking intensely with Thor, Tony and the Captain were leaning against the couch, staring out into nothing, and Clint was helping Natasha from the room.

"What happened out there?" Darcy said, "You guys look like shit."

Steve folded his arms across his chest, chin angled downwards, "Not certain. There were some unexpected variables. And… we weren't prepared for our own men to turn on us."

Darcy blinked, "Say what?"

Tony slammed back the rest of his drink, "We've got a mole in SHEILD, that's what. Someone gave the security codes for my out to our enemy and they shut it down. Took me fifteen minutes just to get the thing running again."

Steve nodded, "And then there was the force field they created out of an EMP that brought both Thor and Loki down temporarily."

Darcy glanced down at Loki, who hadn't moved. He sat still as a statue while they talked, and didn't seem to be paying any attention.

Thor turned from Jane's rapid words, "It was as if they knew every move we would make, and they found a way around it."

"And that's when I stepped in," Bruce said, fiddling with a decorative glass orb. "I managed to stop the helicopter and two of the nukes…but, we lost a lot of people."

"Everything is okay, though, right? You all made it out alive and the White House is secure," Darcy said, her tone hopeful.

Tony poured himself another drink, "Absolutely, but we're still fucked for the next mission if we can't figure out who sent out that information and overrode us a team."

He was right, of course. Someone or something had found their weaknesses and it was imperative that they figure out who or what it was before they went out again. The next time someone could be seriously hurt, or killed, and they wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. It _totally sucked._

They each went their separate ways, some walking, some limping, and while Darcy lay in bed that night, she thought hard about what had just happened. She thought about Jane and Thor's relationship and how, if Thor had been injured or killed, it would have destroyed her friend. She thought about the look on Natasha's face as she had to rely on Clint just to get to her room. And she thought about how guilty Bruce looked as he explained that he had, had to have another 'incident' just to stop the mayhem. Worst of all, she thought about how Loki had just sat there as she helped clean his wounds, stewing in his own shame and despair. She had wanted to comfort him, but was still wary of the opinions and prejudices of the other team members.

She had only seen that look one other time, right after Thor brought him back from Asgard. He had walked the length of the mansion time and time over just staring out in front of him, not taking anything in, and just seemingly lost in his own memories. There were whispers from Jane's room about how he had endured a punishment that could only be described as excruciating and how Thor had felt his heart break watching it happen. But, his punishment was nothing compared to what had happened before his acts of war against the Earth. Darcy caught a fewer words as Thor's voice began to crack under his emotion, but it seemed like someone had tortured him to insanity, had driven his psyche from his body until all he could feel was pain. That was when Darcy stopped her habit of eavesdropping at the vent in her room. Just hearing it second hand had made her angry and sad and confused all at once. At that point, Darcy didn't even know him, had never ever seen his face, and yet she felt bad for the dude. What was up with that?

Sighing, she rolled over on her stomach and determined that she would not think anymore that night. Darcy would not think about how someone had figured out how to break the team apart, she would not think about how her own assignment was taking a wide left turn, and she, most of all, would not think about how her fingertips still tingled from where she had brushed them against Loki's cool skin.

By the end of the week, Darcy was ready to punch the phone on her desk. She had called sixty-three (count it, sixty three) times to reach this doctor's office and couldn't even get a return call. There was something definitely wiggy about that. When she had tried to make a face-to-face visit, the secretary had given her a long look and told her that they were not taking new patients. Once again left without any clue as to how to get this mission done, she turned to the one person who she knew would be able to give her a boost.

Darcy found him in the kitchen, using a large knife to cut fruit which he placed in a ceramic bowl nearby. "Feel like making a little mischief?" She asked as she jumped up to sit on the counter.

Loki looked at her, "Always, Miss Lewis. How can I help?"

Darcy reached over and popped a grape into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, "A little B&E, a little felony, and a lot of running if the cops get called."

"B&E?" He replied, running the knife through an apple and cutting it into eighths.

"Breaking and entering," she answered, "I can't get in this doctor's office by mortal means, now I'm seeking out the god of mischief to help me by godly means."

She watched his hands as he worked, the knife running over the fruit like butter. It seemed that his walk was not the only place he held such agile grace, his hands were wielding magic against the cutting board as well. Darcy had to look away to hide the blush as she thought about what else he was capable of with those hands, and it took three tries to continue speaking.

"So, I thought we could go tonight, after dark. I scoped the place out earlier in the week, and there is a waste disposal chute we could get into. Should be pretty easy."

He placed the knife and cutting board in the sink and opened a towel to dry his hands, "If it's so easy, why haven't you done it already."

Stunned, Darcy bit her lip as she considered her answer, "I don't want to go alone. I'm not good when things go bad, I tend to freeze up."

"And you need me there to unfreeze you," he replied gently.

"I need you there to make sure I don't fall down the chute and impale myself on a sharpened piece of overhang—and yes, to 'unfreeze' me," she said sharply, feeling stupid for even asking for him to join her. This was the exact reason why she didn't understand her role here, she wasn't a superspy, she wasn't a god, and she wasn't a superhuman. Hell, she didn't even have a suit to keep her from getting killed by a ricocheted bullet. It didn't make any sense, and yet, here she was, sitting on a counter staring Loki down while he tried not to smile.

When she made to leave, he stopped her with a hand on her knee, "My apologies. It's just… you're adorable when you have to ask for help."  
Darcy huffed, "I _always_ have to ask for help."  
"Not always," he replied enigmatically, "But I enjoy it when you do. We'll go have this B&E tonight. But, until then, movie?"

"Right on," Darcy replied with a smile. "Oh! I've got one you _have to see_. It has one of my top five best kisses on film."

While she rushed off to get "The Princess Bride" from her room, Darcy was struck with the thought that this was probably the closest thing to a date that she had, had in probably the last four years. It really sucked that it would probably go nowhere, but she liked the idea of it, anyway. After grabbing the DVD, she hurried back to the pit and pushed the disk into the tray, tapping the play button absently. Loki held the bowl of fruit between them as the movie started, and Darcy folded herself into a comfortable position. They watched in contented silence, Darcy picking out all the grapes and apples from the fruit mix while Loki pretended he didn't notice. He ate the blueberries and strawberries, leaving her favorites for her to gorge herself on.

As the credits rolled, Darcy rolled to her side, saying, "So, thoughts?"

Loki smiled down at her, "I liked it, especially the swordsman. He was very entertaining."

"Awesome," Darcy said, relaxing to her back. "Inigo's one of my favorites, too. Honestly, though, I like them all." Then, "So what do you do when you're not with me or saving the world?"

Eyebrows rising, Loki chuckled lightly, "I read, or spar with Thor."

"You and Thor fighting! That must be something," Darcy crowed, "I want to watch sometime."

"I suppose it would be okay, behind the protective glass," he allowed after a moment.

Darcy paused, "Yeah, I suppose that would be a necessary precaution. One wrong move and I'd be side-kick-kebab. Extra crispy."

Loki nodded, "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

She giggled—a thing that hadn't been in her arsenal of actions for many years—saying, "I bet it can pretty rough out there between you two."

"It can," he said with a small smile, "We are very competitive, and have been since our youth."

"I can see that," Darcy replied, returning that smile, "I bet you both wreaked havoc on your parent's poor nerves."

Loki's laugh, like always, did funny things to her stomach, flipping it over in her belly. "We did. Once, on a particularly tense day of sparring, we took down a whole courtyard of structures. It took two weeks to clean up and we weren't allowed out of our rooms for a month."

"Holy crap, the worst I ever did was, like, sneak out for this bitchin' party after hours. I was grounded for a week."

He dropped his eyes in memory, and Darcy let him think for a moment before pushing herself to sitting, "When I was a kid, you know, my dad wasn't around a lot, and my mom was always working. So, I had to make my own version of fun. I used to run around in this wooded area behind our house and use a stick as a sword and fight off the scary wood monsters." She tugged at an errant curl, "Who knew I'd be doing it all over again as a grown up."

Loki reached over and slipped her fingers from her hair, enfolding them in his palm, "I think you did well to practice. I won't lie to you, there is darkness ahead, but you have good friends in Jane… and I am your friend if you need me, whatever you need me for."

Darcy blushed, not sure how to respond, but it came to her eventually. "Yet another example of that silver tongue of yours."

He chuckled lowly, "I was being completely sincere."

"And it just so happens that your sincerity is one of the biggest pick up lines in history," Darcy retorted teasingly

A set of boots stepped deftly across the room, and Loki's hand slipped from hers as she turned to see Natasha striding towards them. Darcy's smile was returned with a curt nod of the spy's head, the shockingly red hair slipping forward over her shoulders.

"You're needed upstairs," she said to Loki. "They're running a new scenario and want your input.

Loki's expressed was first surprised, then amused as he stood, "That's new." He turned to Darcy, "B&E tonight." Darcy's smile was joyous.

Natasha shrugged, disregarding their interaction, "Guess the last mission made it necessary." She lingered as Loki strode from the room, shifting her feet as Darcy stumbled out of the pit 'o' pillows.

"Ugh," she groaned, "This thing gets harder and harder to get out of every time."

"Do you trust him?" Natasha nearly barked. "Loki," she clarified when Darcy gave her a confused look.

Darcy thought about it for a second or two, shoving her hands into her pockets, "Yeah, I guess I do."

This seemed to displease the taller of the two, but there were no biting remarks, no threats to her safety or security or freedom. Only, "Be careful, then." And Darcy got to watch Natasha's graceful step out of the room. There was an element of caution to dealing with the god of lies, as some called him. Darcy knew this on an integral level that could not be ignored by sheer force of will. However, as she spent more time with him, she was beginning to differentiate between the Loki who played pranks on others, the Loki who used magic on a whim in battle, and the Loki who held her hand and told her that he was her friend. They all mingled, yes, but at some point, one or more of the facades dropped and Loki simply became Loki—god who felt guilt for his actions, brother of Asgard's next king, and friend to a sidekick who didn't really seem to matter in the bigger picture.

Darcy had never broken a law this blatantly before. Sure, she'd run a stop light, drank underage, and done a few recreational drugs—but, breaking and entering took the cake. Did she need some sort of special equipment, should she wear a ski-mask? All of it seemed kind of ridiculous when she look on it objectively. So, here she was, hanging out on the couch while she waited for Loki to show up for their rockin' adventure at the doctor's office.

Earlier, she checked out a car from the SHEILD offices, a shiny black thing that smelled nicer than a museum. Flipping the keys between her fingers, Darcy considered her options, and thought very seriously about calling the whole thing off. Then, Loki came striding into the room with this look of utter excitement on his face, his smile wider than she'd ever seen it, and his eyes shining with the knowledge that they were going to do something very devious. That look sealed her fate, she would be making some very awful choices tonight, but somehow that didn't seem so bad.

As he approached, Darcy observed his head to toe black ensemble, and wished she had thought of something better than her black tank and jeans. It hugged him, emphasizing his slim build and drawing Darcy's eyes to more places than one. Absently, she stood, pulling her hair into a high ponytail at the crown of her head.

"You ready? I got a car waiting outside," she said, feigning bravery.

"I am at your service," Loki replied smoothly, and Darcy was temporarily distracted by the liquid movement of his hands as he indicated that she should walk before him.

Thinking it best to leave all forms of identification at home, Darcy drove the speed limit all the way through town until they reached the office. Then, she pulled around to the back and turned off the lights and engine. In the darkness, she could barely make out Loki's profile, but the green of his eyes reflected back at her. She bit her lip and examined the back of the building, even though she could count off the number of bricks in her head and knew exactly where the entrance point would be.

"So, I guess it's go time," she breathed, shoving the keys into her pocket and hopping out of the car, gently closing the door. Loki followed suit, unfolding himself from the seat and rising to his full height opposite her.

They approached the back of the building slowly, Darcy checking over her shoulder every once in a while, just knowing that a cop car would pull up any second. Gingerly, she tested the chute, finding it open, but when she made to step inside, Loki stopped her with a hand on the bare skin of her arm. He nodded to her, his eyes flicking to the door. Darcy shook her head, but he merely smiled, tugging her along the length of the wall. She followed, because, seriously, what else was she going to do?

Making a strange gesture, Loki lifted a brow as the door swung open. Darcy narrowed her eyes, but slipped inside nonetheless; tracking any movement once the door was closed behind them. They paced along the hall, Darcy keeping to the walls while Loki sauntered where he pleased. She had to admit that maybe she was being a little too careful—she had a freaking god along with her on this little excursion and Darcy was pretty sure he could get them out of anything that happened.

Knowing that the records rooms had already been searched, Darcy pointed to a few of the doors, "We should check a few of the rooms, see if there's anything fishy."

Loki nodded, making another gesture, and all the doors cracked open simultaneously. Darcy stared at them, saying, "If I hadn't known you just did that, I would be seriously freaked out right now."

He shrugged, his shoulders moving seamlessly in the darkness that seemed cloaked around him naturally. Darcy leaned in to one of the rooms, using her phone to get a little light. The first three were examination rooms, each relatively the same, sterile and reeking of alcohol. Before they could reach the fourth, footsteps sounded from around the corner. Panicking slightly, Darcy grabbed Loki by the shirt and hauled him inside the room, shoving herself through the door. Then, she continued pushing Loki until they reached one end of the room where there was a desk. Sliding beneath it, they folded themselves beneath it, Loki crouching inches above her, and waited in silence. Well, almost silence.

"You know, I could just immobilize the guard," Loki said in the darkness.

Darcy shushed him, "Do you _want _an alarm to sound?"

"They wouldn't even know it was coming," he replied mildly.

"No 'immobilizing'," she asserted, running her hand through her hair, which had gotten caught on a loose nail beneath the desk. She tugged at it, wincing when it pulled a few strands free. Having to hide out in an office wasn't ideal but, there was no indication that there was a guard for the place, she hadn't seen one all week. She sighed, "This not how I planned this at all."

Loki chuckled, "Why? Did you want to be on top?"

Both Darcy's eyebrows hit her hairline, and she was glad for the darkness so that he wouldn't see the blush heating her cheeks. She managed to keep her voice light and thoughtful through sheer force of will, "The thought _is_ appealing."

The sound of the door opening stopped Darcy cold and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying that they wouldn't be found. From above her, she could hear the change in Loki's breathing as he prepared for a fight, tiny puffs of air fanning across her cheeks. Darcy wasn't sure how he could even mange to inhale as her breath seemed to stick in her lungs. When the door closed again and the footsteps faded down the hall, she relaxed marginally, inching out from beneath the desk carefully so as to not make a sound. Loki followed suit and soon they were standing side by side, staring at the closed door.

"That was close," Darcy breathed, finally.

"We were in no danger," Loki replied, his smile having returned. He sauntered around the desk, touching objects here and there with absent movements.

Darcy shot him a baleful glare, turning her attention to the room. While dark, there was light coming in from the windows, illuminating the far wall—a wall that was covered in pictures and thumbtacks, all connected by string and post-its. Shuffling over, Darcy squinted in the dim light until she began to see words, names.

"Shit, Loki, it's that guy," she said lowly. "From the files." Darcy looked back at him and pointed, "This is one of the murder victims." Not waiting for a reply, Darcy aimed her phone at the wall, then paused. "Um, can you, ah, block the light from the flash? I don't want anyone to see it through the window."

Seeming vaguely amused, Loki traversed the space between them, "As my lady commands."

Darcy tried not to think too hard on that statement, focusing on taking as many pictures as possible in what little time they had left. Later, she would assemble them into a panorama of the wall, and then work from there on how each victim was connected and maybe figure out a motive. Someone in this building had taken the time to map out the murders, and she was going to who it was—she just needed to make it out of here without being caught, first.

Something in her periphery caught her eye, and Darcy craned her neck to see a notebook of some kind hanging from one of the tacks. Opening it gently, she could see more notes and pictures, and some kind of symbols that looked vaguely familiar. Figuring that, as long as she was breaking one law, she could probably break a few more, Darcy pocketed the book, patting its outline to make sure it was secure.

Having taken as many pictures as she possibly could, Darcy shoved the phone into her pocket and turned to her partner in crime. "Let's get out of here," she said, moving to the door. Opening it very slowly, Darcy peeked around the edges of the door jamb, checking both ways before stepping out into the hall. Loki followed silently, his eyes watchful, but lacking some of the anxiety that Darcy felt in the pit of her stomach. They followed the path of their entrance, moving down the halls in much the same manner.

Darcy flinched as a flash of light passed over her and she turned to see the guard coming at them full tilt. _Fucking, fuck!_

"Run!" She called to Loki, feeling a burst of adrenaline press into her chest. Her legs burned with the exercise, but she didn't care—they had to get to the car. Loki's longer legs took him past her, but he reached back and grasped her hand, pulling her along towards the back door. They burst through, and Darcy was stunned to see their car waiting for them with both doors open and the ignition running. She shot Loki a look, unsurprised to see his smug expression. Suddenly not caring how it happened, Darcy flew into the seat and slammed the door behind her, barely registering Loki doing the same. The engine roared beneath her pressed foot and they zoomed forward onto the street, tires squealing in protest of the angle.

Darcy couldn't make her foot let off the pedal, not until they had reached the driveway of the mansion. The garage was strangely comforting in its humming fluorescents and side by side standard models welcoming her back to safety. Pulling into an empty space, Darcy cut the engine and removed the key from the ignition with a deep, heaving breath. Then, she dropped her hands into her lap, a laugh bubbling forward unexpectedly. She laughed until her stomach ached and she had to press her forehead to the steering wheel. It took a long time for the pain to stop piercing into her sides.

When she could life her head, she glanced to the side, "Think we'll be on the news?"

Loki's laugh was sharp, "I have no idea." He reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder, "Are you well?"

Darcy smiled, "Yeah, fine. Just… feeling the rush." Then, "That was fun—scary, but fun."

"Indeed," he said, his voice reverberating in the air between them. He hadn't dropped his hand, but hadn't moved it either. It rested as an anchor for her suddenly lighter than air spirit, which probably would have drifted away he had not been there to hold her down. When his fingertips finally slid down and away from her skin, Darcy found herself wanting to call them back again, wanting to touch her hands to his. She shook the thoughts away as silly childish notions, he was a _friend_, and she was lucky for even that.

Later, Darcy uploaded and printed the pictures, laying them out before her on her desk in the, for once, empty lab. Loki helped her piece it together, but the night was beginning to wear on her. Sooner than she would have liked, Loki urged her to go to bed, walking her from the lab to her room. Their silence was companionable, though Darcy was very much aware of the energy he radiated. On a normal basis, she was struck by it only occasionally, and only when he seemed more amused than usual. Now, however, it filled and echoed down the hall, running over her skin in concentric circles that caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. She shivered with it, trying hard to act normally.

They reached her door faster than she'd anticipated, and Darcy tried to go with the flow, "Thanks for going out with me to scope that place out. Honestly, I probably would have smashed a few windows and ended out in handcuffs. And then Fury would be staring at me with his one good eye, giving me that look. You know, that look parents give you when they are disappointed, but they don't want to say it."

Loki nodded, "I know that look well. I have received that look many times in my life." His stance relaxed as he slid his hands into his pockets, his shoulders folding down a little. Darcy could never resist the shy, nerdy type, and she had to full body tackle the urge to reach out and touch him.

"Only because you did something awesome," she supplied helpfully, trying to keep the mood light and distract herself from the preternatural glow of his eyes.

"Not exactly, but close enough," he replied, with a very small smile. Grasping her hand, he brought it up to his lips, kissed it gently, "Good night, Miss Lewis."

"Good night," Darcy whispered, warm with embarrassment and something else that would remain unnamable. She entered her room, closing the door behind her, and only then did she allow herself a small happy dance for a victory she wasn't ready to say aloud. Flinging herself on her bed, Darcy pulled the notebook from her pocket and placed it on her bedside table. She was too tired to read it just yet, but tomorrow was another day when she would be one step closer to solving whatever maze this investigation was creating around her.

**Let me know what you think! I'm always open to constructive criticism, but flames will be used to bbq in my backyard.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, here's part three of the story. Darcy is delving deeper in the the case, and it just keeps getting weirder. **

Darcy slept fitfully that night and she attributed it to the excitement of her little adventure in criminality. It took two cups of coffee to clear the fog of her mind that morning and when she finally sat down to the puzzle of pictures, she had a consolation prize of a meager jolt of caffeinated awareness. Darcy picked at the images for a long time, turning them this was and that to create the full image of the wall. The order of victims was clear, but the connection still eluded her, which pissed her off more than it created confusion.

Scattered among the photos were candid shots of the victims, all in various positions, doing normal tasks, but all were taken in profile from the left of the subject. Usually the photos were from a long way away, and she assumed enlarged with a zoom of some kind. Some were very clear, as if taken with a high powered lens, and some looked blurred enough that they must have been taken with a disposable. All, however, were eerily poignant in that they were most likely taken in the last days of the victim's life.

Sighing, Darcy stirred her coffee absently, knowing it was right in front of her-staring at her and laughing at her struggle. After a moment, her frustration got the best of her and she turned from the photos, digging into her bag for the stolen book, which was buried under a heap of junk and her taser. A little bigger than the palm of her hand, the leather bound parcel open with ease. The front few pages indicated that this was someone's book of spells- though there was no name or return information. Darcy wasn't surprised as most of the spells required some sort of blood oath or sacrifice, and who wanted to be associated with that? Mouth dry, she read about calling an unnamed demon to do one's bidding. For a while, she could pretend that this was another of her boss' assignments. And then she got to the symbol.

The perpendicular lines, scrawled in dark ink, matched perfectly with the symbol carved into the victims' chests. Darcy had to swallow back bile as she came to the realization that she now knew how the victims had died-but not why, not yet. Below the symbol was a strange set of seemingly innocuous dots that, at first looked like splashed ink. Upon further examination, Darcy could see a pattern of whirls that looked distinctly ominous.  
Setting the book aside, Darcy considered her options. She could give the book, notes, and her conjectures to the team and let them sort it out in their usual way—with guns blazing and not so subtle threats from the Captain. Or, she could continue working on the case and see it through to the end, even as it got more scary with every new discovery. Glancing up at the ever present science duo across the room, Darcy considered her choices and what those choices made her feel like. Even from her desk, she could see just how tired Tony looked, though he put on a happy go lucky face for Bruce's benefit—or perhaps his own, who knew? Still, it wasn't right to push this off on someone else, especially if she were capable of handling it herself. She was capable, too, capable enough to do a little legwork and prove that she had it in her to be something other than the sidekick who got in the way all the time.

Decision made, Darcy set back to work, scanning the open book and the pictures and racking her brain for some kind of epiphany. She didn't like being stumped, hadn't liked it in math class (when letters and numbers were suddenly allowed to intermingle) and she hadn't liked it in her personal life (when men suddenly were more interested in her breasts than her words.) It didn't make sense for her to have so many pieces of the puzzle and still not be able to see the answer. Picking up one of the candid pictures, Darcy stared at the man it depicted. He was simply sitting at a coffee shop in the outdoor café, cup poised at his lips while he read the paper. There was nothing particularly interesting about him, the setting, or his actions. It was all so…normal. She leaned in closer, staring at the very miniscule details of the photo.

Somewhere along the way, Darcy's eyes unfocused, and when they did, her brain almost melted. There, on the wrist of one of the victims, was the whirl of dots similar to (if not the same as) the whirl detailed in the book. Pulling the book to her, she compared the two, eyes flicking back and forth across the pages to double check her initial guess. She was right, though, it was the same. Sitting back, Darcy allowed herself to feel that little stab of victory at the break-through and, suddenly, she wished Loki were here. He would have been right there with her, smiling that secret smile of his as he urged her to continue looking.

Bruce stepped up to the side of her desk carefully, his feet shifting ever so slightly as he waited for her acknowledgment. "I got the report on that substance you brought back. Its sulfur."

"Sulfur," Darcy repeated thoughtfully, rolling the idea around. "Well, the books all say that sulfur is an indication of a demonic spirit."

His expression was indulgent, but slightly confused, "It could have gotten there any number of ways."

She shrugged, "I know, but it is kind of interesting, don't you think?"

"What's interesting is how SHEILD thinks this is any kind of priority," he shot back, his tone tense. "We can't chase ghosts and protect the world."

"That's why I'm chasing them, Brucie," Darcy replied with a smile, her words lacking any kind of bite, which was a fucking surprise to her. But, then again, Bruce seemed to instill in her a kind of strange need to protect. Again, she was surprise, because, out of the almost the whole team, he was the one who needed the least amount of protecting. "I'll leave all that saving the world stuff to the superheroes."

Looking apologetic, Bruce ducked his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that what you're doing isn't valid."

Standing, Darcy touched his arm gently, "Hakuna Matata, dude. No worries."

It took the rest of the day, but Darcy was able to pinpoint the markings on all of the victims on the wall, cross-referencing—she was _cross-referencing_—her notes with the images. She kept a log of her ideas in a file that she connected to her phone, just in case she had any brilliant thoughts while out and about. Then, she powered down her computer and grabbed her bag, shoving the book inside for safekeeping. Waving to Tony and Bruce on the way out, Darcy power walked from the lab and towards the tunnels.

Tired as she was, Darcy couldn't hold back the lightness in her steps and the smile on her face. For the first time since before college, she actually felt like she was doing something that mattered, and that she wasn't screwing it up completely. Shouldering her bag higher on her arm, Darcy traversed the length of hallway to her room, pushing through the door. She set her bag by her bed, reaching inside for the book.

Palming it gently, Darcy flipped through the pages absently. She had already memorized most of the words, or at least knew where to find just about anything inside the worn text. Most of the information was familiar—after reading for as long as Tony asked her to, Darcy was pretty sure _everything_ was going to sound familiar on the subject. Still, Darcy couldn't figure out the why of the situation, what was there to gain from taking all of these lives?

A knock sounded at her door, stirring her from her thoughts. Rising, she placed the book on her bedside table and answered it, somehow unsurprised and totally shocked at Loki standing casually in the hallway.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the jamb.

His smile hinted at something secret and deliciously sly. "We made the news," he said.

Darcy's eyebrows rose against her will, "Really?" Loki nodded. "Already?" He nodded again. "Must be a slow news day."

With a sleek jerk of his head, Loki indicated that she should follow him down the hall towards the living room. Darcy closed the door behind her, trying not to sneak a glimpse of his ass and failing utterly. Like everything else about him, it was shaped perfectly. She would bet her ipod you could bounce a quarter off it.

They settled into the pit 'o' cushions where the TV's DVR was paused. Even before Loki pressed play on the remote, Darcy could see the faint outline of their car parked in the back. Her only consolation was that the tag wouldn't be traced back to her specifically—but that didn't stop her from panicking on the inside. She hugged a pillow to her chest, biting her lip while she concentrated.

The images were from a surveillance camera outside the strip mall and it showed their vehicle pulling up the drive and swinging around the back. Then, the feed went wonky fading in and out so quickly that nothing except the barest outline of the building could be made clear. The video analysts were proclaiming some kind of electromagnetic interference, but Darcy knew better. She glanced at her partner in crime, her smile beginning soft and steadily growing in their shared amusement.

"Way to watch my back."

Loki shrugged, "It was a small bit of magic, nothing more."

Darcy tilted her head to the side, giving him a narrowed look, "You saved our asses from getting locked up in the pokey for an extended amount of time. It's a pretty big deal to me."

His brows furrowed above questioning eyes, "What is a pokey?"

At this, Darcy fell back laughing, her hair haloed around her as she half-lay on a large overstuffed pillow. She rolled to face him, reaching out into the empty space between them, her hand falling short.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I just… I just thanked you for keeping me out of jail and all you got was 'pokey'."

Loki cleared his throat, "I am not used to others thanking me for using my magic."

"That's probably because you used it to create chaos around them," Darcy replied, "Anyways, its way cool that you can just wave your hand and the world does your bidding."

Again, he shrugged, seeming almost embarrassed that she would happen to praise him for manipulating the laws of physics to keep her from having to manufacture a shiv from a toothbrush. It boggled her mind that he could at one minute smile as if he owned the world and, in the next, fold over into himself like a schoolboy in front of a class. It was a good kind of boggle, though, like the kind you get in a museum when you realize the amount of work that happened to go into creating a sculpture from marble that could show the very folds of skin on a human being. Or an orgasm. _Don't blush._

"So," she said, drawing her hand back to her body, "Can you teach me something?"

He looked down at her, his hands flexing on his knees, "Magic is not a toy. It took me many years to learn the basics before I could manifest it properly."

Darcy rolled her eyes, "I'm not asking you to teach me how to make doubles of myself." Just one of her was enough for the world, thank you very much. "Just how you did that door thing-so I can cover my ass for the next B&E."

While he still seemed hesitant, Darcy urged him on, saying that even David Blaine showed a few things to the audience. He didn't get the reference, but she saw him relent with a physical relaxing of his body.

"I cannot teach you how to manipulate the physical world, not yet, but I will show you the basics of harnessing the power." Darcy had to resist the urge to squeal with delight. She settled for sitting up, bouncing lightly in her seat. Loki arranged himself in front of her, pulling up the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows. Then, with the smoothest turn of his wrist, a small, blue ball of light appeared in his palm. It floated there gently, pulsing with power.

Intrigued, Darcy reached out to touch it, but was stopped short. Loki gripped her hand, fingers sliding along the back to turn it over, palm up. He held it steady for a moment, then carefully transferred the orb to her palm, both hands held nearby in case she dropped it. Holding the orb was…different. It tingled along her nerves, setting them on fire and cooling them at the same time. Even so, Darcy could feel that she was holding something alive in her hand, something that could, if she wanted, have its own free will.

Using both hands, Darcy cradled the little ball between them, glancing up at Loki. He was watching her carefully, arms caging hers—for, she guessed, her own protection. They sat for several minutes while Darcy acclimated herself to the tiny bit of magic. It remained in a pulsing orb form, curling into her palms closely as if learning the feel of her skin. She smiled as it tickled her, rubbing like a textured balm of malleable fluff.

"Now," Loki said lowly, "transfer it from hand to hand—careful, mind you, so that it will not drop."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Darcy turned the ball in her hands, jerking when it moved a little too quickly. Loki's hands were there, of course, guiding and protecting as the magic moved around in her palms. While unsteady, Darcy was able to move the magic from palm to palm once or twice, and she was pretty frickin' proud of that. She looked up at Loki, noticing that even though his concentration was on her hands, he looked pleased. It sent a strange, warm feeling zinging across her body.

The magic burst in her hands, flashing so brightly that Darcy had to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head away from the blast. It shocked her, sending her into fits of giggles. When she was able to open her eyes again, Darcy caught Loki's smirk, which only made her laugh more.

"I think that's enough for today," Darcy said when she could breathe again. "I may accidently blast half the house apart."

Loki leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, "Probably for the best. Can't have you blown to bits." There seemed to be more to the thought, but he didn't seem inclined to share, so Darcy plopped down next to him with a released breath. They laid there for just a moment, then Loki lifted a hand and three small balls of light formed. Darcy watched them circle one another, her smile wide and her expression curious. He manipulated the magic to swirl outwards into a galaxy of tiny stars, spinning around a central orb. It was probably only a parlor trick for him, but it was the coolest she had ever seen anyone do—and she told him so.

His laughter, when it reached her ears, put a blush on her cheeks and sent her heart to pounding.

Darcy couldn't leave the case alone, spending day after day buried in her notes and requesting more and more books for her research. She had worn the spine of the little book of spells thin with millions of reads and she had read so many theories and ideas that everything seemed to run together into a cesspool of demonic happenings. It was started to wear on her, as her dreams were filled with images of her readings and her days were steeped in the paranormal. Darcy could recite the incantation used in the murders by heart and she could trace out the symbols for calling the demon while blindfolded.

When she had exhausted every piece of information and bribed every rare book collector in the country, Darcy was amazed to find herself staring face to face with a dead _fucking_ end. Flinging her body back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling, flicking off the nonexistent entity who barred her path. She hated dead ends, hated them with the burning passion of a thousand suns. It was frustrating to feel so close to _something_ and yet so completely far away that she would never reach the end of all this. And people were still dying. Fury pulled her into a meeting at least once a week to let her know where the new murders were and whether or not they had found a connection—they hadn't, save for the symbol and the modus operandi.

Knowing she wasn't going to get anything else done that day, Darcy slipped from her room and trudged down the hall. From the balcony of the staircase, she could hear Jane's sweet voice speaking on the phone—speaking was an operative term, she was pissed off and demanding to speak with a manager. As she hopped down the stairs, Darcy could see a plethora of wedding stuff spread out across a large table near the back of the room.

Spotting her, Jane smiled waving as she hung up the phone. Then, she really took a look at Darcy's appearance, "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so much better about myself now," Darcy shot back, slumping in one of the chairs.

Jane observed her quietly for a moment, "You look so pale. Have you been out of your room at all this week?"

"I went to work," Darcy replied.

"In an underground lab." Jane sighed, running a hand through her hair and glancing out the window. Then, she stood, "Suit up, we're going swimming."

Darcy's face scrunched in confusion, "What?"

Turning from her path towards the stairs, Jane shot her an uncompromising look, "That pool has been sitting there unused for a month. We're going to use it so you, my former assistant, can get some sun. I can't have you looking like death at my wedding."

"Well, if it's for the wedding," Darcy replied dryly. "Okay, I'll get my suit."

She had to pause when she got back to her room as something was not quite right. Her blinds, which she kept closed at all times due to the unfortunate location of her bedroom facing the rising sun, were open fully and the curtains were pulled back. With quick hands, Darcy closed the blinds and curtains, patting them for assurance. Then, she quickly changed into her bathing suit and grabbed a cover up and towel, flitting back down the stairs to join Jane by the pool.

Her former boss was lounging against the side of the pool, resting her head on her crossed arms. Darcy slipped into the water beside her and mirror Jane's position. They rested for a few minutes, but Darcy had never been one to let a silence go on for too long.

"How is the wedding plan going?"

Jane's smile was soft and sweet, "Well, _Thor_ is certainly excited. We're having a small ceremony here, and then a big one on Asgard with his parents."

"Meeting the parents," Darcy said teasingly, "Bet that's nerve racking."

"Oh, my god, yes," Jane exclaimed, "I can't imagine what it will be like, but I figure Thor will walk me through it beforehand. He's already told me a few things."

Shrugging, Darcy dipped back and wet her hair, relishing the weight of it against her back. "Like what?"

Seeming a tiny bit hesitant, Jane answered slowly, "Because I'm human, there's the—you know—immortality issue. And, I'll be expected to come to Asgard with Thor at some point to rule. So, that will be a huge change."

"No way!" Darcy burst forth, her smile wide across her face. "What about the…human thing?

Jane's face contorted in a way that Darcy recognized as intense thought. She had seen it many times as Jane worked, mulling over one problem or another. "He says that we will take a blood oath at the ceremony, so that my being human won't matter. I don't know, Darcy, it seems a little too good to be true."

Darcy's expression was incredulous, "Are you kidding me? You're literally marrying a god, here, none of this should surprise you."

Jane laughed, "I know, it's just that all my dreams are coming true and…I keep waiting for the other foot to drop."

Rolling her eyes, Darcy replied, "If it does, I'll stomp on it with my stiletto heels."

Pushing off from the side of the pool, Darcy allowed herself to float freely on her back, the water sluicing around her body. Jane stayed near the wall, watching her with thoughtful eyes. The sky was clear that day, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun beat down on them despite the cooling waters. This was perfection for Darcy, relaxation in its prime—perfect.

"I wonder what Asgard is like," she mused aloud.

Jane bubbled up, shaking with the knowledge she was going to impart. "It's a golden city—Thor says, at least. He says there are mountains that frame the skyline, and the water is clean and clear all year long. From what I can gather, they run a lot like any other monarchy. The king, Thor and Loki's father, makes decisions for the realm with the help of a group of counselors."

Darcy hummed lightly, "Sounds like something out of history class." Not that she'd paid too much attention anyways.

"Something like that," Jane replied. "I don't know if they have jobs like we do, though. Thor says that they don't even have a currency."

"Barter system," Darcy laughed, "I like it."

"You would," Jane shot back tauntingly. "The market there is supposed to be amazing."

"Really?" Darcy said with interest, "I guess I'll have to make sure I bring something to barter with."

Jane smiled, pushing off from the edge of the pool towards Darcy, turning to float alongside her friend. "I'm glad you're going with me. It will keep me from thinking it's all a dream."

"That's me," Darcy said sardonically, "Firmly rooted in reality." Having had enough of the water, Darcy slid over to the ladder and stepped up, shaking the water from her limbs. She then padded over to a lawn chair to lie out in the heat of the sun, which always made her just the tiniest bit sleepy. Darcy closed her eyes, wiggling her toes as she delighted in the first feeling of rest she'd felt in a long time. For once, her thoughts weren't filled with symbols, murder, and mayhem.

Speaking of mayhem, there was a very distinctive laugh echoing in the air around her, closing in on her—closing in on her wearing a bathing suit. Eyes flying open, Darcy gauged the situation, wondering if she could get to her cover up before…well, shit. Loki and Thor came strolling through the glass doors of the patio, speaking animatedly about something she could not hear. Darcy, thinking quickly, laid back into the chair and closed her eyes again, forcing her body to relax with several deep, cleansing breaths. She pretended that she was invisible, sinking into the plastic of the chair until the sun melted her away, leaving nothing but Darcy-filled mist.

She should have known it wouldn't work. A shadow passed by her line of sight, settling just outside of her periphery. A small peek revealed Loki's profile across from her, relaxing in a similar position on the next chair. His eyes, like hers, were closed and the sun raced across him to pierce at her vision so that she had to squint.

"You know," she breathed, "If you stay out here too long, you're going to get wicked tan lines."

He smirked, his neck twisting so that he faced her, "I think I'll take my chances."

Darcy felt a little apprehension at her lack of attire, though she wasn't nearly as scantily clad as Jane, who was wearing a two piece string bikini. But, Jane had a body to die for with long thin legs and an ass that didn't jiggle when she walked. With the way in which she caught Loki's eyes traveling over her exposed skin, Darcy thought that maybe an ass that jiggled was _appealing_. Her breath caught under the heat of his eyes, so much so that she had to look away in order to be able to inhale again.

"So, how's work?" _Fucking hell_, she sounded like some kind of housewife, but she supposed anything was better than melting into a puddle of goo all over the patio.

Loki folded his hands across his stomach, "Good. After today's scenario run we should have worked out the problems with our previous mission."

"That's great," Darcy replied, "I can't imagine Fury was too happy about the report he got after that whole fiasco."

Chuckling, Loki said, "I wouldn't call it a fiasco. From my vantage point, it was rather amusing to watch Tony fly about haphazardly."

She huffed out a breathy chuckle, "I'm sure everyone was just rolling in the aisles while he blasted random objects across the White House."

"It is an acquired taste in humor, I grant you that," he relented finally, shrugging elegantly.

Darcy rolled her eyes, "Very acquired taste." Glancing off to the side, she spotted Jane and Thor resting near the edge of the pool, Thor's arm wrapped around Jane's middle as they lounged. It occurred to her that this was one of the few normal moments left for Jane. She was destined to run away to Asgard and be a queen. It sucked that Darcy would never get to see her, but she couldn't deny Jane that little bit of happiness she'd found—didn't mean that Darcy had to like the end of the friendship.

Turning her thoughts back to the positive, Darcy looked at Loki, who was observing her in silent contemplation. "What?"

"The color suits you."

She blinked, "_What?"_

"The color," he reiterated with a smirk, "of your…" he gestured to her bathing suit. "Purple suits you. I like it."

"Oh," Darcy said lamely. "Um, thank you." The blush over her cheeks filtered on down to her chest and across her ears until her skin felt on fire with something like embarrassment, but not quite. She watched with abject fascination as Loki's eyes followed the path of the expanding capillaries beneath her skin, the green startlingly dark as his pupils expanded. His expression only forced the blush deeper, which seemed to amuse him, the curve of his mouth twitching gently.

She wanted to hit him, wanted to reach out for one of those pillows in the 'love nest' and swat him with it. As it was, she only had her towel and her cover up down at the bottom of the chair, and she couldn't bring herself to move from her spot. Darcy was almost literally pinned beneath the expression of his thoughts, her skin warming with something that had nothing to do with the sun. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, but it filled her with adrenaline that raced through her bloodstream at a frantic pace.

From some kind of hidden speaker, Jarvis' voice broke through their…was it a moment? "Ms. Lewis, Mr. Stark is in need of your assistance in the lab."

Darcy sighed, "Of course he does. Tell him I'll be right down."

As she rose, pulling the cover up over her body and the towel over her arm, Loki rose with her. She smiled at him, tucking her hair behind her ears and hoping it wasn't frizzed from the heat, humidity, and pool water. They walked together through the house, Darcy trying not to sprint from anxiety and at the same time wanting to drag out the encounter by slowing her steps. For once, she didn't fill the space with aimless chatter. She couldn't, actually, because whatever tension existed between them remained a constant and assured presence in the back of her skull, pressing against some part of her brain that registered that something had shifted in their relationship, and should couldn't figure out where.

When they reached the automatic doors of the lab, Darcy stopped about an inch inside, her eyes wide with shock. Tony was hanging from what looked like a piece of machinery by the cuff of his sleeve, his legs dangling dangerously below him. He was faced away from her, and didn't seem to have noticed their arrival, probably because he was texting.

"You know, I really shouldn't be surprised by all this. But, damn, when I think I've seen it all," she whispered up to Loki conspiratorially.

Loki smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he observed the precarious position of the man who'd built Iron Man. "Nothing surprises me anymore."

_Oh, ho, ho, god of mischief!_ Distracted as he was by the sight of the hanging man, Loki didn't even see it coming. Darcy stood on the tips of her bare toes, reached up to grip him around the neck, and planted a firm kiss on his mouth, her teeth catching his lower lip as she pulled away.

"Surprise," she said, brushing her fingers against the door mechanism and watching in half-amazed wonder as his face registered first shock, then a devious promise of vengeance. Darcy was in a shitload of trouble, but she couldn't have cared less. With the taste of him still rolling around on her tongue, Darcy turned to her boss and assessed the situation.

"How in the holy hell did you get up there anyway?" She called.

Tony turned awkwardly, "Ah, Darcy, you're here. Be a doll and go to the breaker room and press the reset button."

Darcy placed her hands on her hips, "Where is it?"

"It's a big red one, above a big panel of lights along the far wall. By the way, your boobs look great in that. Good color, too."

"Thanks," she called back, resisting the urge to wrap the towel around her body in mortification that her boss probably just got a first-hand glimpse at the goods. She threw her stuff down on her vacant desk and stepped to the far end of the lab. The breaker room was very rarely ever entered unless it were a dire emergency—like this one—or someone had fucked up—like Tony had—or maybe she was curious and she wanted to know what was behind the mysterious door that said 'keep out'. In any case, Darcy headed through the door without any qualms about the warning of electrical fires and disfiguration, twisting this way and that to find the reset button.

It was exactly where Tony had said it would be, sparkling ruby red behind a case that just begged to be opened by nimble fingers. Reaching up, she flipped open the casing and pressed the button. The lights around her flickered as the power of the building surged forth to restart the machinery. Then, Darcy flipped down the casing and turned to leave, nearly tripping over herself as she came face to face with Loki. He looked down at her carefully, gauging her reaction before taking a step forward into her space. Instinctively, Darcy stepped back, pressing her body into the wall behind her.

He framed her, one arm on either side of her shoulders, palms pushing lightly into the drywall. Breath stilling in anticipating, Darcy swallowed back her words, focusing on the intensity of his eyes. They pulled her in, not unwillingly, until she had to dig her nails into her own skin to bring her attention away for even just the tiniest moment. Seeming to realize her coming to awareness, he took action, leaning into her space with an air of aggression that had her hissing in a breath. He slid past her, his skin so close that Darcy could feel her nerves begin to fire in premature anticipation for touch. She could feel his breath fanning across her jaw, her neck, her hair, forcing shivers to roll down her spine. It was an eternity of anticipatory hell, and Darcy's patience was lit up like a roll of TNT.

She snapped, reaching up to pull him closer and grasping only air. For a moment, she stared at a sudden lack of his body with confusion, and then ire, then rage, and then amusement. "Oh, it is so _on,_" she whispered to no one in particular, but somehow she thought she heard a laugh by her ear, tempting her very skillfully.

Traipsing back out to the lab, Darcy caught sight of Tony bent over his work yet again, sharpening something or other that she was sure would end out on his suit at some point. Knowing that he would have no more use of her that day, she grabbed her towel and padded out of the room, leaving Tony to what he did best, immersing himself in something he found interesting to the point of obsession. Not that she could blame him. What he happened to do was save the world on a regular basis, and she was totally cool with that, even though she sometimes worried he wouldn't come back from a mission.

With an uneventful trip back to her room, Darcy lay back on her bed with a sigh and a smile—and a squint. Her curtains were flung open yet again, and though the sun had reached the other side of the building by now, it still reflected harshly into her retinas. Rising, she closed the blinds and curtains, staring at them in consternation. Was Jarvis playing some kind of joke on her? It didn't seem likely as the disembodied butler didn't seem the practical joker type. Shaking her thoughts away, Darcy decided to take a shower, contemplating her plans to get back at the not-so-brooding Mr. Broody-pants in the next few days. When she stepped from her bathroom, running a towel through her hair, her blinds were open again.

"What that actual fuck, dude?" She said to the empty air.

**The next chapter will probably be up this weekend, and shit is going to get real. Just sayin'.  
**

**Leave me some love, it keeps the chapters rolling out so quickly. ;)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**I had this written before I posted the last chapter, but one reviewer got it right in their first guess on a certain gift idea. Please enjoy!**

Darcy was startled awake by the sound of her bedside table sliding a few inches away from her bed, the wooden legs scraping across the floor abrasively. Confused, she glanced at the clock, a blurry 3:21am, reaching blindly for her glasses. She pressed them over her ears, glancing about the room groggily while she got her bearing. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. Standing at the foot of her bed stood a black shapeless mass that seemed to suck the very light from the room. It coiled in on itself, shifting marginally back and forth while Darcy stared.

The air was thick with cold and her breaths were fanning out in a mist in front of her that seemed to hang before her mouth and fade into nothingness. She screamed, because what else what she going to do? Darcy screamed so loudly that she could hear the echo of it reverberate off her walls. Then, she screamed again just for good measure. The darkness seemed unfazed by her resonant shrieking and it moved forward with purpose. Darcy reared back against the headboard, shoving her sheets and blankets away from her in preparation for flight.

Her preparation was unnecessary, however, because Jane came rushing through the door, flicking the lights on as she went. For whatever reason, the light shoved the mass away and it dissipated so that Darcy and Jane were staring at each other from across the room.

"What was that?" Jane whispered harshly, moving slowly and carefully into the room. "Are you okay?"

Darcy nodded, "I think so. And I have no idea what that was, it just appeared in my room. Like a stalker."

"Jarvis?" Jane questioned to the air.

"I scanned the room when Ms. Lewis screamed, but I could not detect another person present," Jarvis replied, his automated voice seeming almost sorry.

Darcy rose from the bed, shoving her hair away from her face, "Maybe I was dreaming."

Jane scoffed, "We couldn't both be dreaming the same thing, Darcy. There was something here, and it looked like it was going to attack you."

"This is stupid," Darcy uttered more to herself than anything, "Hey, where's Thor? I figured he would be rampaging right along with you, Mieu Mieu at the ready."

Jane sat down of on Darcy's bed, "He and the whole team are out on a mission somewhere in Asia. Stay on subject, though, what was that thing?"

"I don't know," Darcy whispered, "It was just here…and then it wasn't." Then, "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

Jane smiled, "Absolutely."

They padded out of Darcy's room and down the hall to the room Jane shared with Thor. Darcy slid into the bed next to her friend and pulled the covers up to her chin, praying that whatever it was she had seen was never coming back. Her prayers were unanswered, however, as every time she returned to her room, something was out of place—her blinds were open, her bedside table moved, her clothes strewn about haphazardly. Eventually, Darcy began to refuse to go into her room at night because it was getting just a little too weird. She settled for sleeping in the love nest.

The TV was on and the news was playing idly in the background while Darcy fiddled with her notes on the murder cases. Having made no progress since understanding the correlation between the mark and the symbol, Darcy was on the edge of giving up completely. There was some insane part of her that wondered if the case and the weird shit going down in her room were connected as well. She folded her legs beneath her and sighed deeply, rolling ideas around in her head until she felt dizzy with confusion and frustration. This whole thing was absolutely bonkers, and yet she knew she could solve it. Every day she went to work, sat down at her computer, and went over her notes. Sometimes, Tony would bring her coffee and a scone, sometimes he would leave her to it. Most of the time, though, Bruce was giving her this look that she couldn't quite comprehend. But, when she would look in the mirror later, she would see that same look staring right back out at her from the glass.

Shoving her notes away, Darcy glared up at the TV, feeling unnecessarily annoyed by the bright colors and images it portrayed. The whole world was conspiring to be insanely happy while she sank into her frazzled nerves. It just wasn't fair—very, very unfair.

"Looking sullen doesn't suit you," Came Loki's voice, smooth like chocolate. Speaking of chocolate, he was holding something that resembled the luscious substance in one hand. "Where is my smiling Darcy?"

"She's right here, if one of those chocolate doughnuts is for me," Darcy replied, eyeing the small cardboard box hungrily.

"Oh, this?" He said casually. "I suppose I could relinquish one to you, if you asked nicely." His expression was equal parts naughty and nice, sincere and facetious. Darcy found that this Loki, of the many Loki's she had seen over the last few months, was the one that turned her on the most. The man had some serious magnetism, and right now he was very much in his element in that he was holding on to something she wanted for which he would exact a price she was all too willing to pay.

Standing, Darcy sauntered over to him, accentuating the already apparent swing in her hips with every step. It took some major cajones, but she forced herself to walk right on up to him, putting her body within an inch of his so that she had to look up at him through her lashes. Then, with the softest, breathiest voice she could muster, she allowed 'please' to roll off her tongue in one long syllable. For a second, Darcy wished someone had gotten that on camera, just so she could remember the moment forever.

In lieu of reply, Loki leaned down and kissed her without preamble. It started as a soft glide of lips that shifted sinuously against one another, growing deeper, stronger as one kiss turned into many. When she pulled away, sliding the box of doughnuts through his fingers, Loki's eyes were dark. Darcy reveled in it, hopping down into the pit with her treasure, waving him after her. Then, she opened the box, pulling one of the tasty morsels to her mouth with relish.

Loki settled in next to her, relaxing on one elbow. Darcy smiled widely at him, "You have totally made my day." She took another bite, "You're awesome—a god amongst men."

"Indeed," he said with a smirk, the cogs in his mind turning visibly. _Of course_, he's a god amongst men. But, he was god who brought her doughnuts and made her toes curl with searing kisses and teasing, taunting touches. There was no mistaking that Darcy was totally falling for the guy, but her natural reserve in dating situations—fuck, were they even dating? She thought about it and came to the conclusion that bringing her doughnuts and cheering her up definitely counted as dating in her book.

Loki's eyes scanned her crumpled and scatter notes, one hand lifting a page absently. "I see you're working hard."

Darcy shrugged, "I wouldn't call it working, exactly. I'm not making any progress at all."

He nodded, flicking the page away and while she watched it waft back down to the pillows, Darcy tried not to think about how much of a failure she was being at that moment. She hated not being able to follow through on this, hated that she was stuck yet again on something that anyone who had watched enough CSI could probably solve.

"Perhaps you need a distraction," Loki suggested with a deceptively soft tone.

Darcy glanced at him with a curious expression, "I don't know, this is pretty serious work and its taking up a lot of my attention. You think you're up to distracting me?"

It was like pulling a tiger's tail, baiting him like this, but Darcy couldn't help herself. She was always the type to see how deep the rabbit hole would go, and delving into Loki was like running through a tunnel that ran straight to China. It was dark, it was cool, and it was limitless. For a moment, it looked like he was going to retort with something sly, but he stopped short, his thin lips curving into a smile that had her almost crawling away in apprehension.

"I think I can handle it," he said, rising. Offering his hands to help her up, Loki pulled her along with him out of the pit towards the main hallway. "I need to get something from my room, and then we'll go."

"Go where?" Darcy asked, irrepressibly happy that he was holding her hand as they walked. It was stupid and girlish and _so_ cool with her that she was tagging along beside him while his long legs took them up a flight of stairs towards a part of the house she hadn't seen yet. It was much like the rest of the mansion in that it was ornate, tech-savvy, and lacking in personal touches. Tony wasn't into the homey décor and they were lucky that there wasn't a huge portrait of himself hanging in all of his hallways, staring at them as they meandered about the house.

When they moved through into Loki's rooms, Darcy had to squeeze her fingers into her palm to keep the excited vibrations from shaking her body, physically. The room was…lush. It was the only way she could describe it. The fabrics, the colors, the woodwork on the four poster bed were all sumptuous in their vibrancy. Darcy couldn't help but to reach out to run her fingers along the bedspread, her nerves tingling as they fired along her skin. So wrapped up was she in indulging her own tactile sensations that she seriously forgot Loki was in the room, watching her.

The blush, when it came, spread over her cheeks in a warm embrace. "Sorry," she said.

"No need to apologize," he replied, stepping up to her. "I have something for you." He held up a small silver chain that rolled over his fingers like water, the links reflected the sunlight from the window in a prism. Held delicately along the chain was a petite pendant of interlocking lines that formed an almost snowflake shape.

Moving around her body to place the charm around her neck, Loki spoke low in her ear, "It is the Helm of Awe, a symbol of protection for my people." He touched her shoulders, leaning down, "I know of the strange happenings around you. The symbol, and the silver, will protect you from magic and those who seek to harm you."

_Well, fuck me running._ When Darcy thought about the possible scenarios for a time when she and Loki would be in his room for any extended amount of time, this was the last thing she could think of that would happen. In fact, this was a scenario that wasn't even on the table. She cleared her throat, pushing away the huge amounts of sentiment that ran through her brain while she thought of just how freaking sweet this man was.

Turning, she allowed her arms to wrap around his waist in a fierce hug for only a moment. Pulling away, Darcy righted herself and steadied her feet. "Thank you," she croaked, her gaze hitting the floor and staying there.

Loki gazed at her for a few moments, and then took her hand, leading her out into the hall and away from his room. From his pocket, he produced a set of keys that she recognized as property of SHEILD. Darcy took them with a smile, "Where to?"

Sliding into the passenger's seat, Loki replied, "Dinner?"

"Works for me," she said as she turned the engine over. "Craving anything in particular?"

The look she received in return was visceral and made her warm all over. Darcy ducked her head and pulled out of the garage, spinning the wheel to ease out into the street. The sun was low in the sky, hanging over the horizon and casting an orange glow over the buildings and road. About ten minutes into the ride, Darcy made an impulse decision and pulled off onto a familiar street and turned into an almost empty parking lot. Cutting the engine, she glanced at her passenger with a smile, "C'mon."

The place was a dive, but it was one of her favorite places to go when life at the mansion was way too weird. The waitresses were extra friendly and the other customers didn't look at you when you ordered everything off the dessert menu. She could blend here—not become invisible like when she was in a staff meeting at her job—but, blend into the crowd so that she became part of it. They sat in a booth near the back of the room and a waitress dropped a few menus off, leaving them to make their choices.

Darcy already knew what she was going to order, but looked at the menu with a feigned interest. Out of her periphery, she watched Loki's eyes run over the options, a curious squint passing over them. It took a few minutes, but she eventually took pity on him, dropping her menu between them so that she could point out the good stuff.

"You should try the breakfast, it's always good—and if you ever come here without me, don't ever get the fish. Just don't, you'll regret it for days," She offered helpfully, running her hand along the laminated folds.

Loki closed his menu with a flick of his wrist, setting it to the side, "I'll take your word for it."

"You should," Darcy replied, leaning back into the booth and looking around at the bad memorabilia hanging haphazardly on the walls. "This is one of my favorite places. Nobody cares who comes in, just as long as you order something. I don't have to be useful, just eat." And lord knew that was one of her favorite activities.

"I can see that," Loki said, touching his fingers to his lips in thought. Darcy watched the movement, knowing through her own sense memory what that motion felt like. "You're already relaxed," he mentioned off-handedly.

Darcy smiled, "Yeah, I guess I am."

They ordered, talking about odd things while their food was prepared by a cook who looked burly enough that he could have been (and probably was) a bouncer at the bar next door. Loki was seriously funny, she discovered, and not in the usual way. He was dry, sardonic, and could shift the balance of the conversation on a dime that had her on her toes the whole time. She danced over words with him, feeling like her conversation, for once, was something less than aimless chatter and more like sharing memories and feelings. By the time the check came around, Darcy had relayed some of her most embarrassing stories from childhood, and some of the more memorable moments during college. She talked about classes and parties, and nights spend over books that smelled like aged vanilla. And he _listened_, asking follow up questions and smiling that soft, wry smile of his that made her hide a giggle behind her hand.

After using the company card to pay for their meal, they headed back to the car. Darcy slid into the seat, putting the car into drive and pulling from the parking lot. The trip back to the mansion was slow and comfortable, filled with comments about the meal and follow up ideas sparked from their dinner conversation. She was enjoying herself so much that, when she finally pulled into a parking spot, Darcy actually thought about making up excuses so that they could leave again. The mansion only seemed to remind her of the responsibility she had to the people who kept dying while she tried to figure out what the fuck was going down with those symbols. It only reminded her that she was failing at something she considered incredibly important.

They stepped out into the fluorescents, Darcy taking extra time to make sure the car was locked and secure. She shouldered her purse, stepping into synch with him as they headed towards the elevators. In the rush of a millisecond, the air around her got cold—so cold that her breath puffed out in front of her fast with each exhale. Darcy glanced up at Loki, who returned her confused look with one of his own, his body stilling as he sensed the change in the atmosphere. The lights above them flickered, buzzing as the power surged into their sockets.

Turning, Darcy spied a form across the room, inching towards them in a staggered shuffle that had her backing away step by terrified step. "What is that?"

Loki shook his head, "I don't know." His reaction was graceful, blue magic swimming from his fingertips towards the thing and sliding through it to hit the back wall.

"Okay, that didn't work," Darcy called up to him. "Any other ideas?"

It really didn't matter if they had any other bright ideas because the thing had reached them. Darcy recognized it as the swirling black mass from her bedroom, its form blurred and yet distinct at the same time. She had backed her way into the car, Loki standing in front of her on the balls of his feet in a defensive stance. He held her back with one hand, his shoulders squared against the mass in front of them. It pulsed once or twice, seeming to test the air around them for their resistance. Tense with fear, Darcy waited for its next move, her grip on Loki's jacket strong enough that she could hear the tears in the threads.

The lights flickered again and the mass pressed forward, surrounding them with this wail that pierced through the air until Darcy had to squeeze her eyes shut in pain. Something ripped at her, sending her flying to one side while Loki was dragged to the other. She fell hard, her head slamming against the cement. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Darcy thought about how awesome the night had started, and how pissed off she was that instead of potentially getting laid, she was getting killed—which fucking sucked.

Darcy woke with a blinding headache. She groaned, reaching up to press the heels of her palms into her eyes, which had started a full-on rebellion against the nerves in her brain. The first coherent thought in her mind was that she was naked. Not in her underwear, fully naked and covered with a thin, sterile sheet. Only the weight of the silver necklace Loki had given her remained. Her glasses lay by her head. The second coherent thought was that Loki was lying on a table a few feet from her, also lacking in clothing and covered in a sheet. The third coherent thought was that he was blue. Not the blue that comes with exposure to cold—he was storm cloud blue and there were raised lines crossing his body in an almost tribal pattern.

Rolling to standing, Darcy pulled the sheet around her and tried to get her bearings. She recognized the room as one of SHEILD's medical holding units. They were being held for medical testing, probably because of the thing that happened in the garage…what _had_ happened? Darcy gathered that she had probably been knocked out cold when she was thrown around by the mass of darkness, but what happened after? She tested her limbs, noting that even though she was sore everything seemed to be in working order for the most part.

"Loki," Darcy called, not certain her shaky legs could make the trip over to him. "Loki!" She called again. He didn't stir, and for a moment she thought he might be dead. His chest was rising with breath, but that only made her feel marginally better as he was still very much unconscious. Padding over carefully, Darcy called out to him a final time, surprised at how strong her voice was despite the general pain throughout her body.

Face scrunching against the light, Loki came to consciousness with a hiss, his movement mirroring her waking moments in the press of his hands to his face. Darcy waited a moment for his mind to clear and then she spoke in the calmest voice she could produce despite the most ridiculous words she could use.

"You're blue, dude."

"What?" He said, squinting at her.

Darcy smiled, "Um, your skin. It's blue." She reached out to brush her fingertips against it, more to draw his attention to his body—okay, because she really wanted to know what blue skin felt like. His reaction was more hysterical than it was confusing. He jumped from the table, sliding back until his feet hit the floor as he backed away in a jumble of blue limbs. Obviously, he hadn't noticed his own lack of attire because he failed to drag the sheet along with him. She tried not to look, _seriously tried_, but there was no stopping the movement of her eyes as they trailed downward at a leisurely pace.

"Nice to know you smurf out everywhere," she said with a smirk.

Flushing this interesting purple color, Loki pulled the sheet from the table and wrapped it around his body. Then, he closed his eyes with an expression of intense concentration, which totally gave her the green light for a second perusal of his exposed skin. Mouth hanging open, Darcy watched as the blue faded away only to be replaced with pale, perfect, porcelain skin that was very much familiar to her. In a weird way, she was disappointed. The blue skin thing was a new aspect of Loki that she fully wanted to explore, and it was not cool that she only got a taste of it before it was being pulled away.

"My sincerest apologies," Loki said, the purple color of his blush morphing into a deep red.

Darcy shrugged, "I'm not complaining." She smiled, feeling the expression reach her eyes, which only made him blush a little more, the color staining even his ears. "So," she said as she hopped back on her respective table. "You turn blue."

He looked away, then moved around his table and sat down slowly, "I do. When my magic is drained, I revert to…that form."

Pulling her hair over her shoulder, Darcy caught the soft expression of shame that crossed his face before he could control it. "Can I see it again?"

The surprise that shot unchecked across his face was deep and unrelenting as it seemed to break something inside him. In the blink of an eye, his skin was changing again, fading into this deep, eerie blue. Darcy watched in abject fascination while he transfigured into someone that looked so different and yet so similar to the man she knew. Wanting a closer look, she slid from the table to cross the space between them.

Loki held up a hand, "Don't."

Darcy ignored him as she observed the transformation from a closer range, "Even your eyes change."

He raised his other hand, "You cannot touch me in this form."

"Why not?" Darcy asked, confused.

"Because my skin will burn you. A frost giant cannot be touched by mortals," he offered in way of explanation.

Darcy ran the moniker through her mind a few times, picturing something along the lines of Frosty the snowman. Loki definitely did not fit that description, though she was sure there was a Popsicle pun she could weasel in somewhere. Too soon, the icy blues sure there was a popscicle pues of Frosty the snowman. as somehow faded back into a soft pinkish hue and Darcy was left staring at him for several long moments. She could tell that he was growing a little uncomfortable beneath her unrelenting eyes, but she couldn't help it. The feeling she got watching him change from form to for was the same she got watching him manipulate the tiny orbs of light.

"That is so cool," she breathed. "You have, like, a carryon Halloween costume." It was a stupid thing to say, so she followed it up with, "Does it hurt?"

Loki looked like he really wasn't sure what to make of her reaction, but he replied in the negative.

Darcy nodded, "Good. Because it would totally suck if it did." Backing up to her table, Darcy continued to speak even though her brain told her that talking was going to make this awkward situation even worse. "I'm guessing that this isn't a regular occurrence for you."

He shrugged, the motion drawing her eyes to the flex of muscle beneath his skin. Loki was lean, defined in a way that was both strong and graceful. She wanted to test the strength in his limbs, wanted to see how much power he held. _Focus, Darcy_!

"I have, over the last year or so, mastered my control over the monster," Loki assured her, his eyes never quite reaching her face.

Darcy's brows furrowed, "Monster? I'm sorry, were we in the same room a few minutes ago? I didn't see any monster."

He scoffed, "Don't patronize _me_, Darcy. Frost giants are—I am—a plague upon the human race, bringing nothing but fear and death upon all those around me."

"Shut the fuck up," Darcy shot back before she could stop herself. Way past controlling her anger, she shoved from the table and stomped over to him, one finger pointed dangerously at his sternum. "You listen to me, and you listen good. I don't want to hear the word 'monster' come out of your mouth one more time unless you're referring to the size of your, let's just say, _impressive_ package. 'Monster' in any other context cannot possibly be used as an adjective where you are concerned." She dropped her hand, waving it absently, "Besides, you're the only man I know who can pull of that color without looking limp-wristed."

It was probably a little more forceful than she needed to be, but the fury that built up inside when she saw just how sincere he was when he thought so poorly about himself couldn't be contained in mere platitudes. She refused to back down and she refused to apologize—let him be pissed at her, if he dared. Darcy shoved back the rest of her rant and waited for his reply, whatever it may be. He had gone silent and still the moment she slid aggressively into his space and the trend continued even as she considered whether or not it was a good decision. Her silent retreat was stopped by both his hands on her upper arms, trapping her between his thighs while he seemed to think about her little rant.

He toyed with the ends of her hair, fingers running through them slowly, deliberately. "Not even Thor speaks to me as you just did."

Darcy chuckled, "Well, considering that I used a taser on him the first time we met, it shouldn't come as a surprise."

Loki's smile spread wide across his face, and Darcy counted it as a victory in her book that whatever he was feeling in that moment was infinitely better than whatever he was feeling in the moments before. They were back to equilibrium once again, except for the fact that they weren't wearing clothes and she had just seen him completely naked. There was that to deal with—later, when the only stable surface wasn't sterile and metallic, when there was a bed with pillows and sheets that were sumptuous and lavish and would feel glorious gliding against her skin.

The doors to the room hissed open and Darcy turned to see Jane come striding through with an anxious expression on her face. She issued a sequence of questions that Darcy couldn't follow, pushing her back onto the table to examine her breathing with a stethoscope. Darcy allowed Jane to run a few devices over her, writing frantically on a medical chart while Darcy sent amused glances to Loki, who looked equally as amused.

Jane squared off with Darcy, forcing the younger girl's attention to focus, "Do you remember anything?"

Darcy shook her head, "Not really. I mean, I remember the thing coming at us in the garage…and then waking up here."

Jane seemed to hesitate for a moment, then she tapped on a nearby screen, bringing up a video. "This is the footage we got from the cameras in the garage."

They were standing near the car, staring out into nothing. Darcy watched as she was flung to the side with inhuman strength and Loki was lifted and thrown back into the far wall, the impact cracking the cement. There was no black mass, no strange staggering form to account for their movement. Only empty air and what looked like seriously sophisticated CGI. Darcy blinked at the screen, her eyes flicking to Loki, whose only response was to shrug and gather his sheet further around his body.

"And this is what we just got not half an hour ago," Jane continued, tapping another video screen.

Darcy was laying deathly still with Loki in the room, the only movement coming from either of them was their breathing. The lights flickered several times and small puffs of air formed around their mouths. Then, a form materialized next to Darcy, taking the shape of a woman with a mass of curly, kinky hair haloing and hiding her face. Squinting at the screen, Darcy tried to get a better look, but somehow everything remained blurred. The woman approached her sleeping form, one hand reaching out to brush against her brow. Absently, Darcy rubbed at her forehead, feeling violated in a seriously strange way.

The woman snatched back her hand as if burned, disappearing as quickly and as mysteriously as she had appeared, and Darcy's body began to convulse on the table. Her limbs jerked, slamming against the metallic surface over and over. Medical personnel in white coats flooded the room, holding her form down and turning her so that she lay on her side. They produced from some hidden pocket some kind of syringe and Darcy winced as it was held high above her in preparation to plunge into her skin. However, her body stopped convulsing just as soon as it had started, leaving the staff hovering around her with latent anxiety.

"What the fuck?" Darcy breathed more to herself than to the other people in the room. "What happened?"

Jane gave her a sympathetic look, "I was hoping you could tell me." She glanced down at the chart in her hands, "There doesn't seem to be any residual effects, though it could take weeks for us to determine long-term issues. And you don't have a history of seizures."  
"And there is that freaky lady all touching me in my sleep," Darcy complained with a whine. "That's seriously fucked up, Jane."

"I know!" Jane nearly yelled. "Don't you think I know that? We all saw it—Tony and Thor and I—and we couldn't get through the doors. Tony couldn't even override the main controls until… well, until you started seizing. Darcy, I've never felt so helpless."

Her heart hurt, and her head hurt, and generally everything hurt right then. Shit had definitely started getting real in that room, and not even the most well-trained people could get through a single fucking door to help her.

"Well," Darcy sighed. "Well." There was nothing left so say. It had happened, she had survived, and now she had not only one weird mass of icky darkness coming after her but also a deranged and possibly magical woman. Did she ever wish for excitement? Because she totally took that back.

Jane offered them both a change of clothes, and before she could blink, Darcy was ushered onto the main floor where Director Fury was waiting for her. She pulled at her sweater, wishing she had her trusty bag on her shoulder. The thing was old and ragged and smelled like her college dorm, but it held her whole life. She hoped it still existed somewhere and hadn't been obliterated by whatever the hell it was that had attacked them—she was saving that bag of Doritos for a rainy day.

"Ms. Lewis," Fury began, "Glad to see you're still alive."

"Thanks," Darcy shot back dryly, sitting in one of the vacant chairs. Tony materialized beside her, patting her shoulder as he sat. From across the room, she could see Natasha leaning against the wall, her sharp eyes flicking over Darcy in assessment. Jane eased away from her, giving a half-wave while she stepped from the room. Loki had also gone missing. Darcy was fiercely reminded of every time she got sent to the principal's office in school. There would be a counselor sitting next to her to ease her anger, a gym coach to take care of aggression, and the principal would glare at her from across the desk. Fury wasn't glaring, exactly, but who could tell with the eye patch? What mattered was that, with fewer witnesses around anything could happen.

"I haven't been completely honest with you, Darcy," Fury said. "And it has, unfortunately, placed you in more danger than I had originally hoped for this case."

Darcy's eyebrow quirked, "So, potential arrest is okay, but demonic possession isn't?"

From beside her, she heard a strange choking noise from Tony. He didn't say anything, but she had an idea of the myriad of scathing comments that would be running through his mind.

Fury's face seemed to relax, "Something like that." He clasped his hands behind his back, "We knew we were dealing with the demonic from the get-go. We knew there was most likely a human controlling the demon. And we knew the relative location of that human within a few blocks. What we didn't know was their purpose." Darcy had to wait a few long, torturous moments for him to continue.

"When I said we found no interesting similarities between the victims' medical histories, I was lying." Darcy rolled her eyes, but maintained her silence. "One similarity, you have already discovered—the mark on the wrist of each victim occurring right before their deaths. The second similarity," he trailed off, breathing deeply. "Is that each victim experienced a seizure exactly like the one you just experienced in the medical lab."

Darcy rolled the information around, "And…"

"And," Fury continued seeming for the first time to search for the words he needed to say. "And the final similarity was that each of the victims was clean."

"Clean?" Darcy perked up. "Like, they showered every day?"

"No, Lewis," Fury shot back, "Clean, as in," he paused in incredulous realization of the words that were coming out of his mouth. "As in, without the stain of blood."

The words were familiar, eerily familiar, and Darcy's mental rolodex flipped through the pages upon pages of notes to the incantation. The demon would only take the bloodless. It was a requirement for the demon to strike, a seemingly innocuous part of the ritual that hadn't rang a bell until Fury had said anything. So, no murderers. That made sense—not really, but she was going to go with it.

"And?" Darcy said again, not sure where this was going.

Fury gave her a hard look, his mouth pressing into a thin line, "And you are the only agent with security clearance to the Avengers who hasn't taken a life."

Darcy started to nod, she started to agree, and then she started to get mad. "You used me." She stood slowly, her palms pressing into the table, "I was bait this whole time. How many of you knew?"

She looked to Tony first, whose eyes could not seem to rise from his clasped hands, then Natasha whose arms folded tighter across her waist.

"Who else knew?"

"Only the people in this room," Fury stated. "We couldn't risk a breach, and with a mole already in play…"

"Fuck you," Darcy called out, "Fuck all of you and your stupid agendas, your fucking _secrets_."

Fury held up both hands, palms up in supplication, "I am sorry for how this happened. It was not our intention for you to play this role. But, when the entity focused on you, we were able to track it, and try to stop it."

Darcy's look could have melted stone, "A lot of good that did. The only thing I need now is—oh fuck me." She had pulled her sleeve up, exposing her wrist, only to find the whirl of spots indented into her skin like some kind of dermatological plague. Slumping into her chair, Darcy threw her head onto her folded arms. She pressed her face hard against the surface of her arms, looking through them to the floor. Then, she murmured into her sleeve, "Did you happen to find anything else useful that I should, you know, know about since my life is now basically forfeit."

Tony shifted in his chair, "We may know how to stop it."

Darcy rolled her head to the side, staring up at him, "How? And don't think I'm not pissed at you. See if I help you down off the next ledge you're stuck on."

Tony took it in stride, "I knew you could handle it. Thought maybe you would taser me, though."

"It's a thought."

"I'll keep that in mind. Just don't aim for the goods, Sweet Pea. Pepper's a frisky girl—."

Darcy rolled her eyes, "On with the saving my life part."

"Right," Tony said, rising and tapping the middle of the table. "Look, there's this tablet on auction next week. In it is a ruby the size of a human heart and we think that's how we can get the demon."

Staring at him, Darcy had to blink several times, "I'm gonna need some back story."

He smiled, "The pattern of victims is reminiscent of a ritual that hasn't been used in about a thousand years. It's a lot of dead language and ritualistic sacrifice, but the underlying message is that a lower demon is called to sacrifice fifty humans over the course of six months or so. The demon's symbol traps the souls in some kind of paranormal limbo until the final kill, where _that ruby_ is placed in a circle of the final kill's blood and that unleashes…" he paused, thinking for a moment, "Imagine the horror of Fury in drag."

Darcy's face scrunched, "I'm going to have to bleach my brain."

"The whole world is going to have to bleach their brains," Tony replied, "But, then again, they won't have brains to bleach. Because they'll be dead."

Leaning back in her chair, Darcy glanced at the photo in front of her, "So, no ruby, no problem."

"Exactly," Tony said.

"So, why don't we just take the ruby? We could have superspy over there just pop in for a quick smash and grab, and be done with it."

Fury shrugged, "We want to draw the person who controls the demon out. We'll send a team to the auction for surveillance—see who bids. Of course, until the auction, it will be on lock-down."

"Great," Darcy said, "So, how many people do we have left before they need the ruby?"

The sudden silence in the room should have tipped her off that something was wrong. But, honestly, everything about this conversation was wrong, and what came next shouldn't have surprised her. The three of them looked at her with this expression of utter helplessness, similar to the look Jane had given her in the lab. Something in her stomach dropped like a stone, settling low and burning like fire and hate.

"What?" Darcy asked, her voice cracking.

"There have been forty-nine murders, Darcy," Natasha replied in a voice that was so soft that if she hadn't seen her lips move, she wouldn't have thought the woman capable of it.

Darcy swallowed, "Oh, damn."

"Don't worry, though," Tony piped in, "You're safe as long as we keep the tablet and the ruby out of the hands of the maestro of this whole shebang."

"I'm not exactly reassured. What do I do until this thing ends?"

Fury almost smiled, "As of today you are an official agent of SHEILD, and you will work with Natasha and Dr. Foster that night to see that the tablet doesn't leave our custody."

She tried to comprehend what he just said, she really tried, but something just wouldn't compute. "Why?"

"You wanted more responsibility, you got it," Fury replied in way of explanation, his face expressionless. She thought, however, that she could see a hint of a challenge in the depths of his eye. And damn if she was one who couldn't resist a challenge.

Darcy laughed, "That's screwed up, you know that?"

"It's the government," Fury replied. "Everything is screwed up, one way or another."

She considered her options, thought about how she could sit back and wait for whatever it was that would be after her or she could seek them out, hunt them down, and bash their brains in. Brain bashing seemed like a lot of fun. "Okay, here's what's going to happen," Darcy said, "I'm going to accept your offer, I'm going to stand up, and I'm going to moonwalk out of here while I flip you the bird."

And that's exactly what she did.

**Reviews are love, my ducklings, and they urge me to write faster. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**And away we go...!**

Darcy lay under a pile of blankets in the love nest, burying herself deep enough that only the barest sliver of light peeked through into her cave. There was a small part of her that couldn't believe how she had allowed herself to be manipulated. There was an even larger part of her that was seriously pissed off that she was now the target of an unholy entity from the depths of hell. More than anything, she was terrified, and she couldn't even be terrified in the comfort of her own bed since her room had apparently become haunted. Darcy had to muffle the sound of her sobs behind a wall of blankets and pillows that made her body sweat and her face sticky with the salt of her tears.

She sniffed, rubbing at her cheeks in the darkness until the urge to cry had abated. Then, she lay for a long time, thinking over the events of the day in a skipping reel of memory. Darcy knew that she would be protected to some degree—she was a SHEILD agent, now, wasn't she? She also knew that there was a plan in place to prevent world annihilation. However, in light of her recent attack and the literal target on her skin, she felt she had the right to be a little uneasy. Everything hinged on the team's protection of a sacred stone tablet, and since she was now officially a part of that team, old insecurities of royally fucking up played constantly in her mind.

Movement from outside her stronghold signaled that Darcy could no longer hope to disappear into the pillows, completely unnoticed. She had hoped for at least three days to wallow before someone came to pull her out of her misery, kicking and screaming and throwing some kind of idiotic tantrum. But, she guessed, that was the danger of holing up in the middle of a living room where at least seven other people frequented daily. Reluctantly, she peeked out from the blankets to see Loki seated on the ledge of the pit, forearms resting on his knees.

"She lives," he said with a smile that was more kind than laughing.

"Not for long," Darcy replied, unsurprised at how her voice croaked with the words. When his face contorted into confusion, she shoved her hand through the blankets, exposing her wrist. "I'm marked."

Long fingers gripped her forearm, pulling her further out into the waiting air with an ease that really shouldn't have surprised her at this point. Though she craved the contact and the cooling temperature, Darcy felt a strong impulse to burrow back into the blankets to hide her red and splotchy face. Loki touched the mark gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the skin a few times with a firm rotation. She let him observe and gather data on it, her shoulders slumping in supplication.

"When did this happen?" He asked, the green of his eyes flicking up to her face.

Darcy shrugged, "I honestly don't know. And that's not even the worst part." Spilling her guts, Darcy poured them out in a tangled mess between them. As she sifted through the gushing pestilence, she could feel pieces of her anger melt into resignation for her situation. She did ask for more responsibility, she did push herself into this case, and now she was reaping the consequences. Loki listened, one hand holding her affected wrist while the other brushed her matted hair away from her face gently. There was no judgment there, but she could see the building pleasure in his expression as Darcy rolled through to the end of her story.

"Did you really moonwalk out of the room?" He asked, and Darcy made a note to congratulate him on his advance in pop culture knowledge.

She rolled her eyes, "I can't moonwalk, but I think they got the point."

"I believe anyone in the control room would have understood your meaning." Standing, he pulled her to his body, wrapping his arms around her torso to keep her steady. "SHEILD has informed the team that one of us is to remain with you at all times—at least until after we have arrested the culprit."

Darcy smiled up at him, "I guess you're stuck with me for a while, then."

His brow quirked, and Darcy readied herself for his response. "I didn't say it would be me," he drawled.

"Really?" She replied, pulling away in mock insult. "Then, I suppose I should see if Clint is busy."

Hands moving like lightning, Loki swung her around and pulled her close, "Not a chance."

A giggle bubbled up from her throat as she pressed her palms to his chest, her fingertips buzzing at the feel of the fabric of his shirt. Like his bedroom, Loki's wardrobe was filled with sumptuous fabrics and perfect tailoring. It made her want to rip the threads from him to get at the skin underneath. She toyed with one of the small mother of pearl buttons, warmed by his playfulness despite the totally depressing chain of events.

"I should probably let you know that you just earned some serious kudos," Darcy said conversationally.

"Did I?" Loki replied, his fingers running beneath the hem of her shirt in a smooth, gliding motion.

A shiver rolled over her nerves, "Yeah." It came out breathy and short, but she was fairly certain he got the sentiment. In fact, judging by the darkening of his eyes, he definitely got the sentiment. Rising to her tip-toes, Darcy touched her lips to his cheek as a thank you for his comfort. Loki's fingers slipped from her sides to wrap lightly around the muscles of her neck and shoulder, holding her in place while he leaned down to offer a kiss of his own in return. It burned through her, igniting a fire she hadn't known she possessed, but was totally okay with discovering. With a hissed breath it turned aggressive in a flurry of teeth and tongue and wet, scalding skin. Darcy had to grip his shoulders just to stay standing—actually, horizontal was definitely more appealing at that moment.

Panting, he pulled away, though his arms kept her locked into the hard planes of his body. He touched her mouth, tracing the edges softly, reverently. She couldn't resist the urge to nip lightly at them, which only heightened the intensity of his expression. Leaning down so that their mouths almost touched, so that they were sharing breaths, Loki smiled in a way that made her heart nearly burst from her chest to plop down at his feet. She felt dizzy with happiness, which was a big freaking change from how this encounter started…_oh, you sly dog._ The man had to be the most talented master of distraction in the universe. And, for the moment at least, he was hers.

So distracted was she by the prospect of more kisses and touches, Darcy hardly noticed Loki leading her back to her room. When they arrived, he had to walk her through the door, his thighs pushing at her legs to physically move each limb further into the freakishly cold space. The room was a wreck; pictures off the wall, bedclothes strewn about, tables knocked over and Darcy knew exactly what had happened. It was a violation of her privacy, similar and no less intense than the woman showing up and messing with her head.

"Pack a bag," Loki said firmly. "Be quick about it."

Nodding, Darcy shoved as much as she could into a duffel bag she picked up off the floor, running to her bathroom to grab a few toiletries. Loki kept careful watch, his eyes scanning the room for potential dangers. After grabbing as much as she thought possible and pushing the seams of the duffel to the limit, Darcy rushed past him and out into the hallway. It was only then that she could find the ability to breathe deeply once more. Loki closed the door behind them, reaching out to her.

"You'll sleep in my room for now," he said, his tone brooking no argument. Darcy had to admit, it was a generous offer and she was sorely tempted in many ways to accept immediately. However, old-fashioned modesty kicked in hard as she thought about what the conversation would be with her mother during their weekly chat. _Oh, yeah, I'm sharing a room with this guy and even though we are sleeping together, we're not _sleeping_ together._

"You don't have to do that," she replied despite her body's rampant protest, "I can sleep in the living room for a while."

His response was to approach her with slow, measured steps, and Darcy was struck with the image of a jungle cat stalking through foliage on a predatory hunt. Chin down, he moved purposefully into her space, backing her into the opposite wall oh so gently, but with enough pressure so that she knew to stay exactly where he put her. The distance between them shrank to almost nothing, and Darcy had to crane her neck to be able to see his face. His lips were pressed into a firm line, jaw set in a way that told her she would either agree immediately to his proposal, or he would use any means necessary to convince her. She almost wanted to put up a fight just to see how far he would go.

"Listen closely, mortal," Loki pronounced slowly, carefully. "No woman of mine is going to sleep in a pit of pillows facetiously called a 'love nest' unless I am sleeping there with her. You can agree to sleep in my room, or we will both be sleeping in the living room. The choice is yours."

When her brain finally caught up to the connotation of his words, Darcy had to bite her lip to keep the squeal of delight inside. She just barely managed to settle her expression into one of wry, sardonic, laughter. After a breath, she was able to counter him in a semi-normal tone of voice, "So, when did I become a woman of yours?" Then, "Are there more of these women I need to know about, because we'll need to coordinate schedules."

There was something about his expression that signaled to Darcy that, perhaps, he had revealed more than he intended. That was perfectly fine in her book. She now knew that he was just as possessive of her as she was of him and they could move on to more interesting things—like sating her curiosity about the softness of his bed, or what it was like to lay with him for hours. She wondered if he was a blanket hog, or how he sprawled across the bed. Did he sleep on the left or the right? Would they wake up in a tangle of limbs or would they roll together as they came to consciousness, seeking each other out in the rising light?

Dropping his forehead to hers, Loki walked them away from the wall towards to the middle of the hallway, "I think it's time to show you to your rooms."

"Lead the way," she replied with a smirk, nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Darcy was once again startled by the understated opulence of his room. As she set her meager belongings on the floor by the bed, she gave in to the urge to sit on the bed. _Ah, heaven._ She could already tell that the bed would be a hundred—okay, bazillion—times better than the nights in the pits. The mattress was soft enough that it felt like sitting on marshmallow fluff, yet firm enough the hug her body. She wondered, briefly, if Tony would allow her to work from the bed. It was doubtful, but she made a mental note to ask.

Now that she wasn't completely flabbergasted by his accommodations, she began to notice small details. There was gold encrusted into the woodwork of the bed, and the walls were varnished with a paint that could reflect a prismatic round of colors. Though green was predominant in the scheme, Darcy could see the hints of purple and blue playing peek-a-boo in the background. More than anything, though, was the buzzing feeling of magic pooling in the atmosphere around her. It soaked into her bones, warming her from within and roiling along her nerves. She guessed that it only made sense that this was where his magic would be most concentrated—it was probably where he spent most of his time. Still, the room _did_ practically scream Loki's name, branded as it was into all aspects of its care.

Folding her suddenly unsteady hands into her lap, Darcy gave Loki what was probably her most sincere expression. "Thank you, for everything."

He sat beside her on the bed, one arm pulling her to his side. "You can thank me by being careful."

Blowing out a breath, Darcy laughed, "Believe me, careful is number one on my priority list. But, just for you, I'll try extra hard."

"That's all I ask," he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Now, movie?"

Darcy smiled and started to rise, but Loki's hands stayed her movement firmly. He then reached over and touched a panel on the wall by the bed, his long fingers tapping out instructions to the computer. Why hadn't she seen that panel in her own room? Well, damn, she could be exploring all of the high tech stuff hidden in her room if it weren't infested with paranormal phenomena. But…somehow Darcy couldn't find it within herself to mind watching Loki use the mechanisms with the ease of an old pro. She wondered if he had discovered cell phones and text messaging… that could make those god-awful staff meetings much more interesting.

A whir from across the room took her attention, and she gaped at a screen sliding forward from the wall, powering on automatically. A few more taps from Loki and previews for a movie began rolling.

"I'm impressed," Darcy said over her shoulder, "You're adapting pretty well to our Midgardian Technology."

Loki shrugged elegantly, "All technology has rules. Once you learn them, you can manipulate it at will."

Darcy put her foot down for changing into pajamas for the movie, because that was the only good way to watch a movie in bed. It didn't occur to her how unbearably nervous she would be walking out in front of him in nothing but a tank top and shorts until her hand was on the doorknob. It took several breaths, but eventually she was able to slide out of the bathroom without blushing like a teenager. More convincing was needed that Loki's invitation for staying with him didn't imply sex when she caught sight of him lounging on the bed with his back pressed against the headboard in sweats and a t-shirt. Darcy had never seen him so casually dressed (barring their little stint in the lab), and it somehow made the moment seem more important than it really should have been. Biting her lip, she slipping beneath the covers beside him, yelling at herself internally to pay attention to the movie and not the fact that he wasn't wearing socks and—Christ, even his feet were perfect.

The movie was a stereotypical horror flick, complete with a group of misguided teens and bad decisions. Darcy forced her attention away from her bed partner long enough to gather that the lead protagonist was walking right into a trap.

"Don't go up the stairs," she said mildly, "Ugh, don't you know anything?"

Loki glanced at her with an eyebrow raised, "How do you know that going upstairs is a bad choice?"

She smiled and said conspiratorially, "Because it's against the rules." When he indicated with a smooth gesture that she should continue, Darcy turned beneath the sheets to face him fully.

"There are rules to any horror movie," she began in a voice that was scarily similar to a professor she had in college. The woman had a penchant for slapping her ruler across the desk of sleeping students, which then triggered the thought of whether he might be interested in role play, but she digressed.

"The first rule is that you can't split up, no matter what. If you split up, you die—usually it's pretty gory. Anyways, other rules are to never go upstairs or downstairs, stay where the exits are. And, if the monster is down, he's not dead, double tap his ass, because they're never dead the first time around." This earned her a laugh, and she tried not to be too proud about that. "Lastly, never, ever, ever say 'hello' into a dark room. It's just like yelling out that you're here and you're ready to die. Stupid move, dude."

Loki listened intently, nodding along with her explanation. "I take it you are a horror movie connoisseur…"

She smiled, a little self conscious of her inner nerd showing, "Yeah, you could say that."

Eyes blazing with laughter, Loki took her hand, "Then, I shall defer to your expertise, should we ever find ourselves facing," he glanced at the screen, "Chainsaw waving maniacs."

"As you should," Darcy replied primly.

They continued to watch the movie, and it didn't escape Darcy's notice that Loki continued to hold her hand, his fingers laced through her own. As it wound down to the end, the pressures of the day began to once again push in on her and Darcy felt herself slipping out of consciousness. She fought it, however, wanting the opportunity to tell Loki goodnight—and maybe she was hoping for a goodnight kiss or twelve, whatever. He noticed her drooping eyes as the credits rolled, his body sliding lower into the mattress to face her. They shared a soft look for several long moments, and Darcy wondered at how brightly the green of his eyes shone in the low light. Like emeralds, they pierced the darkness, becoming a focal point for her attention.

Flicking off the TV, Loki set the remote aside and leaned over her. Swallowing, she prepared for _something_, she wasn't sure what. But, he merely reached down and slid her glasses from her face, folding them closed and setting them on her bedside table. Then, he touched her faced gently, brushing a kiss over her lips that left her with the urge to reach up and run her hands through his hair, to pull him closer than she dared. He kissed her again, lips firm but still very gentle, before pulling away to settle into the covers. Darcy smiled into the darkness, her vision useless and blurry, her nerves firing even more in spite of it.

"Tease," she breathed towards the ceiling.

His answering chuckle had her biting her lip in anticipation for retaliation. One long, lean, limb reached out to wrap around her hips, pulling her into his larger frame so that she settled comfortably next to him. "You're tired, Darcy," he murmured, his breath fanning out over the nape of her neck. "I need you well-rested for what I have planned."

And she was tired, so tired in fact that she didn't have the energy to respond to his veiled dare in any other way than a noncommittal hum. Still, it was an exciting and arousing thought that he had plans, plans for which she would need to be well-rested, plans that might involve activities that were…she was going to go with 'aerobic' in nature. It was the only word she could use that wouldn't make her spontaneously combust right there and then. Filing away the knowledge that she would have to make 'aerobic' plans of her own, Darcy allowed herself to sink into blissful, irresistibly happy sleep.

Darcy jerked to awareness when her work cell buzzed loudly near her head. She failed for a moment, searching in a blind panic as it seemed to take on a life of its own, disappearing as soon as she thought she had found its location. Eventually, however, it gave up the fight and Darcy leaned down to squint at the screen—she had five emails. Reaching over, she pushed her glasses to her face, running her hands through her hair as she read. Tony was wondering where she was, having checked her room. He was also wondering why Jarvis was confirming her presence in Loki's room of all places. Finally, he was wondering if he needed to threaten someone. Darcy rolled her eyes, the image providing a small amount of amusement before her morning ablutions.

Beside her, Loki stretched, and Darcy allowed herself to blatantly stare at the movement of muscle while her groggy mind stuttered to life. Her phone buzzed again in her hand, another email that threatened for an unscheduled visit if she wasn't in the lab in fifteen minutes. Darcy figured Loki probably wouldn't like Tony banging on his door so early, dragging his bed partner away to work on god knows what. So, she slid from the bed and made her way to the bathroom, grabbing her duffel as she went.

Teeth and hair brushed, clean clothes on, and a fresh coat of mascara on her lashes, Darcy stepped from the bathroom only to trip over herself. Glancing up, she caught sight of Loki's smirking amusement.

"I gotta get to work," she said lamely, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Tony is having a conniption."

Loki hummed in response, the sound sleep-rough and low. It sent tingles to all the right places and Darcy had to shift her weight and lower her eyes to hide the fact that her fact was heating with something other than embarrassment. She hadn't forgotten his declaration the previous night, and now she was left on pins and needles for his next move. Hadn't he said something before about the game being about anticipation?

_Screw it,_ she thought as she padded over to the bed. Hand over hand she crawled to him, forcing herself to keep eye contact as she moved. Thought his expression was impassive, Darcy had learned long ago that still waters ran deep with Loki, and she just knew that there was something _deep_ going on underneath those layers. It might kill her in the end of it all, but damn if she wasn't going to enjoy discovery just how many layers he had and what those layers included.

Leaning down, Darcy pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, giving him soft reassurance of their standing. She lingered over him for long moments, pulling away only to come back again with a new angle, a new slide of skin. Below her, Darcy could feel the tension in his body rising with each second, coiling beneath his skin until she could feel the rope that held his, admittedly, incredible self control pull taut. Then, with a look that told him she knew exactly what she was doing, Darcy leaned back and rolled from the bed.

"I'll be in the lab most of the day," she said, "But maybe we can watch another movie later." Darcy didn't wait for a response, shimmying out the door and into the hall with as much grace as she could muster, which probably wasn't a lot, honestly. But, oh god, it felt good to have those butterflies rip-rolling around in her stomach while she damn near skipped to her job.

There was coffee and a doughnut waiting at her desk when Darcy got to the lab. Her bag was also lying in the seat. Though Tony had lied to her, Darcy could tell in some strange way that his heart was in the right place. She accepted the coffee and pastry for what it was, a peace offering for bad behavior, and she moved on to check her work load. There were no texts for her to go through and no files in her inbox. Turning in her chair, she caught Tony's attention from across the room.

"You brought me down here in a hurry, did you have something you needed?" She really tried to keep the arsenic out of her voice, but a little slipped through. Tony's jaw clenched for a moment before, with some effort, his expression brightened.

"Can't I just spend some time with my favorite lackey without the third degree?" He replied, hands turned towards the ceiling.

Darcy rolled her eyes, "Seriously, Tony, you sent six messages in less than five minutes. You threatened to drag me out of bed in my underwear." She crossed her arms over her chest, "There has to be a reason."

Tony sighed, "Look, Sweet Pea, you're in a mess. And let's just say, for shits and giggles, you were going to need some preparation for your little adventure next week. Where would you get that preparation?"

Darcy shrugged, "I don't know. Are you offering to train me?"

"Ah, no," he replied with a smile. "Wouldn't be able to hit you hard enough—soft heart and all that. But, Red Riding Hood over there," he pointed to the other side of the room. Natasha had sidled in unnoticed and was leaning against one of the workbenches. "She packs a punch."

Glancing between the two, Darcy shifted from foot to foot while she considered her reply. "As fun as getting the crap kicked out of me sounds, I'm not certain that's the best idea."

Tony shrugged, picking up an errant part and fiddling with it absently, "I think it's the best damn idea I've ever had. Listen, Darcy, I can put on the suit, but that only works for normal psychotic weirdos. This is a whole other level of bat shit crazy."

"And what makes you think that learning a few self-defense moves is going to do me any good. In case you hadn't noticed, that thing knocked me and a freaking god out cold without breaking a sweat!" She was yelling, and her anger was making her shake with repressed tears. Darcy didn't want to be arguing with him, but that helpless feeling made her more pissed off than she had ever been before—and more scared.

Natasha stepped forward, her long legs stretching out with each movement, "I did some research. Demons fight with psychological warfare, they wear people down over time, breaking their defenses." She turned to Darcy, "Yes, I'll teach you to fight. But, I'll also teach you how to withstand psychological torture and interrogation. It won't save you if they come at you head-on, but it will delay the inevitable until we can come up with a better plan."

Her face was so sincere, yet so distinctly hard in its expression. It occurred to Darcy that Natasha had probably endured her fair share of interrogation and torture while performing her duties to…whoever she held allegiance to before SHEILD. It also occurred to her that, as a woman, she might actually be the best person to help.

"Okay," Darcy said, relenting. "But I want doughnuts, lots of them."

They sat across from each other for a long time, her and Natasha, staring at one another without saying anything. Just when Darcy was beginning to feel uncomfortable, Natasha stood and circled her.

"What you're feeling now is apprehension, tension, and you can use it to your advantage," she informed her. "Your opponent is going to try to corner you into feeling that you have to run away immediately, that you have no choice. The first rule is to remain flexible—nothing is set into stone and you can bend the situation to your will if you choose.

"The next rule is to always respond to the situation and to remain engaged. If you try to block out the pain, you're going to become desensitized for the moment when you'll need to be on your toes the most. You _must_ stay present at all times, or you're going to miss your chance for escape."

Darcy didn't want to think about how Natasha came up with her rule system, or how many situations for which those rules applied in the woman's daily life. There was something about her that belied the hate and rage that should have filled her every waking moment. Darcy could sense the ever present tension in Natasha and the constant readiness for attack. It had to be a reaction borne out of a life of incredible necessity. It was almost sad, really.

Natasha struck out with her foot, knocking Darcy's chair over and sending the smaller woman to the floor in a heap. Darcy grunted as she picked herself up off the floor only to have Natasha sned her back down with a sharp drop of her foot to the small of Darcy's back.

"Ow," Darcy called, "What was that for?"

"You're not paying attention," Natasha barked out. She shoved Darcy to the side, rolling her to her back. Standing over her, Natasha leant down, "You're weak. Stupid. You can't even protect yourself from a ghost."

"That's not fair," Darcy called back, trying to stand.

Natasha laughed, pushing her back to the ground roughly, "Fair? You're a living parasite in this house, in this company. You leech off the kindness of others and when they finally ask you to help out, to take on a case, you bring hell to our front doorstep. You're miniscule. You. Are. Nothing."

Feeling something crack in her, Darcy kicked out with her feet, sending Natasha away from her. She then scrambled to standing, her hands in front of her to prepare for a fight. Tears may have been running down her cheeks, but there was no way she was going to take this kind of crap. Rage welled inside of her, forcing the breath from her lungs in large, heaving pants while adrenaline pumped through her veins.

"Good," Natasha said, the muscles in her body relaxing, "That's a good start."

Darcy was pushed for hours, sent flying head over heels more times than she could count and crying way more than was necessary in one day. Natasha pushed and pushed, working every angle to her advantage until Darcy lay wrung out on the floor of the room, pounding her hand against the tile.

"I'm tapping out," Darcy called. "I can't do this anymore."

Natasha circled her for a moment, hands on her slim hips. "Alright," she said, "We'll pick this up tomorrow."

"What?" Darcy crowed. "We have to do this again?"

"Absolutely," Natasha said with a confused look. "You have less than a week until we have to guard the tablet from whatever person is controlling the demon. We are going to work on this every day, all day, until that time. I can't have you falling apart on me in the middle of a fight."

Glancing off to the side, Darcy sighed, "You're right. I hate you, but you're right." Natasha's only reply was to pull her up off the floor and send her on her way. That night, she climbed into bed before Loki returned from whatever he had planned for the day. Her sleep was restful and deep, dreamless as well. Natasha had exhausted her emotionally, physically, and mentally, to the point where her whole body burned with the exertion upon waking.

She groaned, rolling her shoulders as she sat up. "I hate that woman."

"Who do you hate?" Loki said with a laugh.

"Natasha," Darcy replied, "She's the devil or something. We're, like, working together to prepare for this auction thing in a few days."

Loki sat up, leaning against her with a gentle push, "What sort of work are you doing?"

"She's torturing me, in the literal sense," Darcy replied flippantly.

The body beside her stilled to preternatural stone, startling her into turning sharply to the side in order to discern the cause of his reaction. Loki was looking at her with this expression of disbelief and growing rage. She reached out to brush her hand against his arm, flinching when he gripped her fingers quickly, holding them between them.

"Are you okay?" She asked carefully.

Loki swallowed visibly, his eyes closing while he worked to calm himself. "Please tell me you're joking."

Darcy thought carefully about her answer, "Um, she's, I don't know, strengthening my resolve or something. Can't fight a demon physically, gotta fight it in my mind." Her tone was light, but it fell into the dead space before her as his mood only seemed to worsen.

He turned her so that she faced him, his expression grave and almost frightening, "Is she hurting you?"

"No," Darcy replied immediately, her initial want to comfort him overriding her usual penchant for the truth. "I mean, not permanently or anything. She did make me cry, but she knows her limits—my limits." Hand cupping his jaw, Darcy furrowed her brow, "I'm fine, really. Why are you so upset about this?"

Loki's face softened and hardened in a strange mixture of flashing emotion that simultaneously frightened and fascinated her. She wanted to capture it and dig into it and study it in an impossible way. He leaned into her touch, kissing the palm of her hand.

"What happened?" Darcy urged, knowing where this was going, but wanting him to tell her anyways. If she was honest with herself, she wanted his trust in this, wanted him to give her this one bit off himself that he hadn't given anyone else. If she was honest with herself, she wanted the opportunity to comfort him as he had comforted her.

He curled in on himself, though he hadn't moved. "I… before I…" He took a breath to steady himself, and then continued with words that flowed out from him with increasing intensity. "Before I brought my army to the earth and was charged with a mission to subjugate your people, I was chained in a pit so black I couldn't tell if it was day or night. Time had no meaning—it could have been days, weeks, centuries for all I knew. There would be screams coming in all directions until my ears rang and then it would stop, but I could still hear them even in the silence. I was starved and beaten and… I couldn't figure out why. And then they came to me, they _freed_ me, and they gave me this power that," his face contorted in pain.

Darcy felt mercy well up inside her, "You don't have to tell me everything. It's okay."

Loki shook his head sharply, "No, I've been holding on to this for far too long." He inhaled once more, his words flowing more gently now. "The power was exquisite, satisfying in the most primal of ways. But, it came at a price. I had to keep feeding it, keep giving more of myself until it consumed me completely. There was nothing of Loki left by the time I got here, not even enough to consider that I might have to kill my own brother—blood or not—in order to accomplish my goal. I was so very lucky that the Hulk beat me nearly to death, because it forced the power from my body in the only way possible."

Darcy gathered him close, holding him as tight as her little arms could, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he replied, acid dripping from his voice, "I wasn't referring to my bloodline when I called myself a monster, Darcy. It was my own arrogance, my own selfish craving for power that allowed them to manipulate me. They didn't create me, they merely exposed who I was as my core."

Shaking her head, Darcy sniffed back her emotions, knowing they would do him no good at the moment. "You aren't that person, you can't be. You are _not_ that person, not anymore."

She held him for a long time in silence, until his body began to relax against her supple curves. He didn't cry, he didn't rage, but there seemed to be this incredible release of tension within him that resulted in an exhausted, relieved state of being. They lay for the rest of the night together, folded together like origami figures. It was the most intense bonding moment that Darcy had ever felt—no sexual encounter had ever been this fulfilling and no sharing of memory had ever been this momentous. Once again, she felt their relationship shift into new, strange territory that was tenuous and strong all the same. Despite the evils they faced, despite the demon coming for her, there was this ray of light piercing through the coming darkness.

A few days later there was another attack that required the team to go out and handle business, but Natasha stayed behind with Darcy as her on-duty babysitter for the night. It was incredibly awkward for her to sit in bed and pretend to read while Natasha cleaned her gun not ten feet away. She forced herself to continue to read until the words blurred on the page, and then she had to force herself to keep the book upright while she stared into nothingness. Eventually, Natasha stood and reached over, snatching the book from her tired fingers.

"Go to bed," She said, "I'll keep watch until Loki gets back."

Knowing it was useless to put up a fight, Darcy turned off the light and snuggled deep into the pillows. Soon enough, she lost consciousness, her body reaching out for the rest it so needed. Sometime during the night, however, she was woken by a voice saying her name repeatedly. It called out to her, urging her from sleep to groggy wakefulness. Bleary eyed, she glanced around the room, reaching for her glasses. Natasha was asleep in the corner, her head dropping to her chest, gun still in her hand. And standing at the edge of her bed was the dark mass of evil energy. It moved towards her, and in her terror, Darcy couldn't force the scream from her lips. Locking in her throat, the sound refused to be issued and stuck beneath her vocal chords as a physical ache.

The dark mass moved steadily towards her, and she could hear it telling her to stop resisting, to just give in. She was tired, it said, and she needed to let it have its way. Stop fighting, stop fighting. Darcy couldn't move, even her eyes refused her commands as they focused solely on the darkness that eclipsed all light in the room. Reaching out for her, the darkness swirled before her eyes, dipping down to press against her chest. She could feel the approaching cold, and her instinct told her that death was surely coming for her. It touched her, so cold that it burned—it seared against her skin, wrenching a scream of pain from her lungs.

Suddenly and inexplicably, the mass pulled back, rearing as if in an equal amount of pain. She could hear a baleful moan echoing across her consciousness as it receded, pulling the darkness in on itself to the back of the room before disappearing completely. Her scream woke Natasha, who was immediately standing, gun at the ready, and firing a shot before she could blink. Darcy, thinking quickly, flicked on the light and scanned the room. The entity was gone, but her chest still seriously hurt.

Jane flew into the room, her eyes wide, "I heard a gunshot."

"Demon showed up," Natasha said in way of explanation.

Darcy was crying, her chest burning and her stomach plummeting as she thought about what could have just happened. Jane moved to comfort her, pulling her into a fierce hug. They stayed like that for many long moments, Darcy sobbing into Jane's shirt. When she pulled away, Darcy's eyes widened to saucers.

"Jane, you're bleeding," she said, pointing to the stain of blood on her chest.

Looking down, Jane picked at the fabric, her eyes rising and widening as well. "I'm not wounded, Darcy. You are."

It really should have occurred to her to check her chest for where the demon touched her, but given the situation, Darcy was going to allow herself this one misstep. Gingerly, she slipped her nightshirt from her chest, gazing down at her torn skin. The perpendicular line pattern from the crime scene photos was scratched in an unholy pattern across her skin in deep, ragged marks. It was, however, incomplete as the upper part of the mark reached up towards the necklace Loki had given her. The helm was cut neatly into the mark, severing it from end to end.

Jane brought the first aid kit in and cleaned her chest while Darcy thought about how the helm had stopped the demon from killing her. There was no possible way to thank Loki for the gift that just kept giving, but she would try all the same—she wasn't going to sleep that night, anyway. The three women piled together in the nighttime, Natasha pacing the floors occasionally and Jane checking Darcy's wounds over and over, marveling at how quickly they were healing. By the time the guys got back from their mission, they had closed completely and she was left with only raised red marks to remind her of the attack.

They—all of them—sunk down into the pillow pit in an oblong circle of people who were exhausted and uncertain. Darcy had to keep her eyes down, mostly because she couldn't take the looks she was getting. Pity. Curiosity. Pain. Every look was a variation on the theme of her demise, and though her chest no long stung, she couldn't stop touching the marks. For the rest of the night, Darcy huddled together with Tony on one side, Loki on the other, and Jane settled beside Thor nearby. She cradled the glass of whiskey Tony had handed without a word, sipping from it while they all pretended to watch infomercials on the TV. It was a strange, homey, kind of moment—like a wonky Norman Rockwell painting—the whole team gathered in one spot for a purpose other than crime fighting. If it had been any other day, if Darcy had been only a few months younger, she would have made popcorn.

**Let me know what you think! Next chapter should be up in a few days, possibly by the weekend. Remember, my lovelies, reviews keep these chapters coming out fast!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here you are, my lovelies! This one is a little shorter, but no less filled with D/L succulence. **

When the day of the mission finally rolled around, Natasha forewent the usual training so that Darcy could take some time for herself in preparation. She was grateful for the time off as the last few days had been more than informative on Darcy's perilous emotional state. The spy probably meant well, but Darcy used most of the morning to brood about how she didn't have anything to wear to the auction. The ticket she had been issued specifically requested formal attire, and there was no way in hell she was going back into her room to get her one black dress from the hanger in the back of the closet. That left her with…six t-shirts, two pairs of black work pants, five pairs of underwear, and a bra. Hell, she didn't even have any heels.

Darcy now understood the feeling of literally having nothing to wear for the occasion and she sincerely hoped to never feel it again for the rest of her natural born life. She guessed she could take the company card and go get something from the mall, but who knew if they would even let her out of the mansion without an armed escort—much luck that would give her, since, you know, demon and all. Still, the thought had merit and it never hurt to ask. The worst that could happen was that she would be trying on lingerie in front of a couple of suits.

Just as she was reaching for her cell, a knock sounded at her door. "Come in," she called.

Jane's fair head peeked through with a smile, "I come bearing gifts!"

"Really?" Darcy replied, intrigued, "Well, then, get your ass in here."

Stepping through and closing the door, Jane lugged a large white box on her hip, her small hands gripping it tightly to her side. Darcy's eyebrows rose as she took in the strappy red number hugging the petite woman's frame and the suede pumps on her dainty feet. Jane had definitely gone sexy for the auction, she only hoped that Thor didn't see her beforehand or they'd never make it in time for the bidding. Sidling up to the bed, Jane set the box down, indicating that Darcy should open it with a sweep of her hand. Eager, Darcy delved into the present, picking through the paper until a swath of rich purple fabric appeared. Gasping, she pulled the dress from its wrapping, holding it up as it unfolded to floor length.

"Oh, my god," Darcy crowed, "What is this for?"

Jane shrugged nonchalantly, "It's technically your bridesmaid dress, but I figured you would need it for the auction tonight."

There was no hesitation for Darcy to try the gown on, and the strapless garment swished around her feet as she padded from the bathroom, the asymmetrical hemline exposing her long legs for each stride. "I don't know what to say," she breathed as she took in the figure in the mirror hanging on the wall. Tight stitches around her bust and mid-section accentuated her already powerfully apparent hourglass figure, and the color seemed to magnify her skin to a golden glow where it was normally pasty white even in sunlight. Jane held up a pair of shoes that, when worn, wrapped around her ankles with golden patent leather. She slipped them on, balancing on the balls of her feet while she admired her reflection carefully.

"I get to wear this to the wedding." Darcy said more than asked.

"Yep," Jane piped up, "I've got some jewelry being made across town, but this is basically it."

Nodding, Darcy smiled to her friend, wondering just how Jane knew to take care of her so well. She didn't cared, she was grateful. "Now, let's do something with my hair."

They spent the rest of the day primping in Loki's bathroom, Darcy's ipod playing in the background while they worked studiously to make sure not one detail was overlooked. Darcy allowed Jane to roll her hair into big, bouncing curls which she pinned into an up-do that would probably never hold, but looked great anyways. Smudging dark eyeliner around her lids, Darcy applied more than she normally would, fanning it out to create a smoky eye that in any other instance, may have been a little too over the top for her. She let Jane pat some shimmering blush over her cheek bones and along the high points of her arms and legs, let her do what she wanted because Jane on a mission was unstoppable. It was better to allow the woman her way and to try to enjoy the process.

Turning in the mirror, Darcy admired their combined handiwork. "Well, _hello_ gorgeous!"

Jane pushed a pair of diamond studs in her ears, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, "Cleaned up pretty well, didn't we?"

"Babe, we're a couple of sex kittens," Darcy replied with a true laugh, her body feeling light despite the heavy material of the dress. "This is going to be one bomb-ass party."

Another unexpected knock sounded at Darcy's door. "It's open!"

Natasha stepped through in a white empire waist gown that flowed down over her body like water as she moved forward. The gold embroidery along the seams set off the warm undertones of her hair, brightening it like fire in the fading light. Darcy wondered where she was keeping her gun, it didn't seem like it would fit into her tiny clutch.

She gave them both a once over that was not particularly revealing of her thoughts on their outfits, "That'll do. Let's go."

Darcy hadn't given much thought to how this whole guarding the stone thing would work out in the technical sense. She figured she would get a debriefing at some point, but an explanation of her role never came and Darcy had been too busy preparing with Natasha to ask her questions. The silence in the car ride to the auction house only compounded her inability to understand what she was actually doing on the mission and it frustrated her.

"So," Darcy began, breaking the never ending silence of Natasha's brooding professionalism. "What's the game plan?"

Opening her clutch and pulling out her phone, Natasha showed Darcy a picture of the stone and tablet placed gently on a stand in one of the auction house's vaults. "This is going up for auction in about two hours. Our job is to watch who is bidding and out bid them. Simple."

Darcy chuckled, "What are we bidding with, monopoly money?"

"Worse," Natasha retorted, "Tax dollars. We're approved to tag team until someone overcomes any other potential buyers. One way or another, we're going to get that tablet out of here and into a safe facility by the end of the night."

"Oh," Darcy replied, mollified only slightly. "So, what do we do until the bidding starts?"

Shrugging, Natasha slipped her phone into her clutch, "We mingle. Once we get in and settled, you'll each select a spot and scan the area, picking out people who look suspicious. This crowd is city elite, and anyone who looks out of place will stick out."

"Oh," Darcy said again. It really was a simple plan, but there was something to be said about simplicity—Occam's razor and all that. The car pulled to a stop in front of a large set of steps that had Darcy praying that she wouldn't trip and ruin the fabric of her dress on her first mission as a SHEILD agent. They were handed out of the car like tiny, delicate birds and herded up the stairs by an escort of young, stylish guys in white suits. Darcy thought about tipping them, but Natasha powered forward as if this was no big deal, as if being given VIP service were her god-given right instead of a strange awkward happening in the course of a strange, awkward adulthood.

The room was glowing with lit chandeliers and there were people milling about in what seemed like organized chaos. Darcy had to step lightly in her heels just to keep from bumping into someone while she attempted to follow Natasha's careening form through the crowd. Eventually, they stalled near a tray of champagne where Natasha handed them each a glass, her voice lowered despite the rush of chatter around them.

"Sip this, but not too fast. Jane, you take the upper balcony over there. Darcy, your place will be on the far side of the room near the pillars. The bidding will start in about forty minutes; use that time to scope the crowd. I will be speaking with the staff about holding our seats." And just like that she was gone, like a wisp of smoke in high heels. Darcy shot Jane a look, smiling when she merely saluted her with her champagne flute and began making her way to the balcony.

As it turned out, scoping a crowd was indeed very boring. It was so boring, in fact, that Darcy began to make up stories in her head about the people she was watching. The woman in pearls was having an affair with the waiter and the man in the green velvet suit was banging the pool boy, etc. It was an increasingly amusing pass time and Darcy was very much enjoying it until a smooth voice broke her reverie from just behind her.

"Purple is definitely your color," low and tempting, his words reached her ears in thudding vibrations that rippled over her skin, warming her.

Darcy smiled, not bothering to turn around in her reply, "I'm beginning to agree with you."

Cool hands framed her hips, pulling her slightly back so that she stood in the shadow of the pillars around her. She allowed the movement, careful not to step on the hem of her dress and to keep her eyes trained on the people before her who seemed oblivious to the fact that a very powerful being had entered the room. Leaning against the pillar, she reached back and pressed her palm against his wrist, staying any retreat.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with the slightest turn of her head.

Loki chuckled, "We're all here, one way or another. Watch."

A thrum of noise built near the back of the room and Darcy craned her neck to seek Tony striding through the doors in a silver striped suit and dark sunglasses, Pepper on his arm and a smile on his face. He preened for the cameras, waving at his onlookers. Darcy shook her head, knowing this was an act he played for the press, but enjoying it all the same. The Captain snuck in behind Tony, sliding off to the side to greet a few people she didn't recognize. Darcy would bet an entire month's salary that Clint was hiding in the ceiling somewhere. That left… Brucie, standing at the buffet line with a full glass of champagne in his hands. If this were any other party, Darcy would be right beside him, trying to cajole him into mingling with the other guests.

"Where's your brother?" Darcy asked, failing to spot the blonde.

Loki shifted behind her, his hands flexing gently on her hips. "He is guarding the tablet, itself, in the next room."

Nodding, she replied, "So, you're all here. Don't trust us ladies to handle business?"

He chuckled, the sound running along the back of her neck and for once Darcy was glad she had pulled her hair up and away from her skin. "Not at all. We're here to support you, if necessary."

"Uh huh," Darcy retorted, disbelieving. "And the moon is made of cheese."

In a typical reaction, the man chose to change the subject by sliding one hand around her waist and pulling her closer so that their bodies were pressed together tightly in the darkened space. He pressed soft kisses along her shoulder, working his way up to the nape of her neck, where he scraped the skin with his teeth. Darcy gripped the forearm wrapped around her middle, biting her lip to keep the hissing breath from escaping. She kept her eyes forward, but her attention remained on the mouth that slid around to her ear, sucking the lobe between cool skin to meet the rolling muscle of tongue.

"The bidding is about to start," he murmured, his voice husky. "Good luck."

Darcy felt her body stumble back into nothingness as he literally disappeared from behind her. She steadied herself against the pillar, pressing one palm into the stone and the other to her chest as she forcibly tried to calm her racing heart. Her hormones were buzzing and her nerves were firing uncontrollably, leaving her breathless and hot and blushing. She heaved a large breath, scanning the room to make sure no one saw. Much like her professional life—did this count as a professional moment—she was being largely ignored.

Scurrying out into the crowd towards the auction room, Darcy met up with Jane and Natasha, hurrying to take her seat before someone else stole it. She was then handed a small white paddle that looked a little too large to play ping pong with the number 416 written on it. From across the room, Darcy spotted Thor standing stoically against the wall, his pale eyes watching the crowd carefully, gargantuan arms folded over his broad chest. Shrugging, Darcy arranged herself to view the item up for bid, a large chaise lounge that looked like something her grandmother would own. She would bet that it smelled like peppermint and old people. Within minutes, the auction was underway, and items were flying out the door with price tags in the tens of thousands. Darcy glanced at Jane, her eyes widening as an urn reached fifty thousand dollars.

"Whose ashes are those?" She whispered, "The Pope?"

Natasha shushed her with a stern look, and Darcy shut up because she didn't want to get stabbed with a pen or something. When, finally, the tablet hit the auction block, Darcy sat up straight and prepared herself for the bidding war. Paddles were flying up everywhere and it took some time to find her rhythm—eventually, though, she was flicking her sign up every few seconds, glaring at some dude on the phone. He couldn't even be bothered to stop the conversation long enough to bid properly. Idiot.

After the bidding wrenched up to three-hundred thousand dollars, Darcy's arm was getting tired and she had to tap out to have Jane take a turn. She was a little more shy about staring the guy down, but Darcy figured she had it covered for now, having perfected the icy look after a few solid attempts. By five hundred thousand, Natasha looked like she was going to shoot the guy just to end the monotony, but Jane was keeping up, forcing the bidding higher every few seconds. For a good fifteen minutes they were in a deadlock, each trying to outbid the other, and then the lights went out.

"Fuck," Darcy breathed to no one in particular, "This is bad."

In fact, it was worse than bad, it was freaking awful and Darcy wished it were only in the category of 'bad'. From one side of the room, fire and flame burst through the wall, pulsing through the room and pushing the crowd away with deadly force. Darcy dropped to the floor out of instinct, reaching out for Jane as they moved towards the exits with the crowd. As an afterthought, Darcy glanced back in horror as a figure dressed in black grappled with the tablet and headed out the door while Thor was busy pulling himself from the wreckage of the fallen wall.

Calling to Natasha, Darcy took off after them, scrambling quickly despite her heels and cumbersome dress. Bullets (she assumed from Natasha's gun) whizzed past her, slicing into the person, but not slowing them down enough that she could catch up. She urged her feet faster, but they were just too damn fleet footed and Darcy couldn't hope to compete with them while wearing stilettos. She slowed to a stop, glancing off to the side as Natasha filed in beside her, breathing hard.

"Clint's got 'em on the outside," she said in consolation, "They won't get away."

The team gathered on the stairs, sans Clint, and waited for his kill shot. Absently, Tony reached up and touched his Bluetooth, listening to an inaudible voice on the other side. "Thanks, Robin Hood." Then, "He's in the alley."

Curiosity getting the best of her, Darcy followed the group to the alley and observed the fallen man who had made an attempt to steal an artifact that could have ended the world. He lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood, an arrow sliding through his throat, pinning him to the ground. Darcy tried not to feel bad for him, failing utterly when a deathly gurgle reached her ears. It didn't make any sense to feel bad for the dude—he was definitely a part of the ongoing plan to kill her. Leaning down, she palmed the tablet, holding it in front of her while a SHEILD agent showed up out of nowhere to deal with the body and the mess.

It looked so damned ordinary, she thought as she turned the thing over in her hands, feeling the weight of his heft between them. There was no writing, no symbols, not even a scratch on the stone to indicate that it would be pivotal in the end of the world as they knew it. The crimson stone, though, made her blood run cold as it reflected moonlight in a strange, ethereal way that just couldn't be natural. In any case, the thing was seriously creepy and the wanted none of it. Tempted to throw the thing to the ground and smash the stone, Darcy had to grip the tablet tighter to stop herself from following through on the urge. She could feel the now familiar pulse of magic inside it, though it seemed to lay dormant, waiting for the catalyst for awakening.

From off in the distance, she heard a howl that shook her to her bones. It soared out into the night, echoing as it neared them slowly. The sound scraped along her skin, shooting piercing sensation to her brain and sending her internal warning alarms blaring. Like the tablet in her hands, there was just something unnatural about the sound, and she feared whatever danger it brought with it.

"Did you hear that?" She asked, turning to see Natasha eyeing her carefully from a few feet away. The howl sounded again, this time from the other end of the alley. "There it is again," she whispered. "Sounds like some kind of dog."

"There was no sound," Loki assured her, his long fingers tipping her elbow gently to guide her towards him.

Claws scratching against the cement tapped a rhythm the bounced around until Darcy couldn't really tell where it was coming from. She turned in a circle, pulling the tablet to her chest as she moved, straining her ears to locate the source of the horror.

"How can you not hear that?" She said as the hair on her arms rose. "It's right there."

Finally, there was a growl that grew in intensity and sound—finally they heard and she sighed out a breath that felt like relief. Darcy was pushed back and to the side as the team morphed into their game faces. Jane was summarily shoved in beside her and they circled in a defensive strategy, fanning out to guard from either side of the alley. The growls grew louder and louder until it made the earth on which they were standing vibrate with the sound, the very walls of the buildings on both side bowed beneath it. The streetlights above them faded to nothing and a herald of screeching birds sounded from their left. Darcy squinted into the darkness, trying to figure out what was happening even though her mind had a pretty good clue already.

A deathly cold breath fanned across her cheekbone and Darcy closed her eyes with realization that even though she was standing in a buffet of superhero power, it had found her anyways. Something wet and icy pressed against her face, shoving her skull back into the bricks of the building behind her with such force that she saw spots. She swallowed, too afraid to move, and too stupid to call out. Pressure on her hands ripped her forward to the ground so that she fell face first into the asphalt. It was only then that she could yell out for help.

As soon as it began, it ended. The lights shone brightly in the darkness and the growling stopped completely. Even the air thinned until it held nothing of the unease she'd felt previously. Jane knelt beside her, helping Darcy to her feet while Loki checked her for injuries. She waved everyone off, stopping cold when she noticed her empty hands.

"You've got to be shitting me," she said, glancing around to see if she'd dropped the tablet accidentally. "Am I being punk'd?"  
The team looked at her with this expression of dumbfounded confusion and all Darcy could do was throw her hands in the air. She then touched the dress, checking for tears. Darcy needed this dress for at least one other occasion and she really didn't want to have ruined Jane's gift in less than a few hours after receiving it.

"How's the dress? I didn't rip it anywhere, did I?"

"Fuck the dress," Jane exclaimed, "What the hell just happened? Where is the tablet?"

By now, Darcy was pretty much used to the idea that the demon was following her everywhere and that she really couldn't fight it if she wanted. It didn't occur to her to be surprised that the tablet was gone and that some kind of devil dog had torn it from her hands without preamble. Unfortunately, the rest of the team was surprised and that required some sort of explanation, of which she had zilch. She settled for sighing deeply and shrugging helplessly, not certain where she had gone wrong.

Not even bothering with the façade any longer, they all piled into a large machine that looked like a tour bus and headed back to the mansion. Loki shadowed Darcy every second of the trip, his presence constant and, though it was reassuring to her, she could tell he was upset by the turn of events. He held her hand the whole way home and when Tony eyed her, Darcy merely lifted a brow and glared in a dare for Tony to say something, _anything_. Thor caught her attention only to wink at her, and Natasha studiously counted her bullets. Brucie, poor thing, sat on one end, with Clint quizzing Jane for information about what had gone down in the alley. Neither of them could really believe it.

By the time they got back to the mansion, Darcy was seriously starting to worry about the state of affairs in Loki's mind. His body had been tense for at least a half an hour, and he hadn't said a damn thing the whole time. His grip on her hand, while not tight, was firm enough that she didn't argue when he rushed past the group, dragging her into the hallways towards his rooms. She also didn't argue when he pushed her inside, walking her into the wall by the bed with determined steps. Even further, she didn't argue when he pressed his palms on either side of her shoulders and held himself inches away for an insurmountable time. He said nothing, barely even blinked, but the tension remained and Darcy had to force her heart to keep a slow, normalized pace.

What she did do is notice that he was wearing a suit that, unsurprisingly, was tailored to very specific measurements that molded beautifully to his lean form. It made his towering height seem giant and his lean, angular frame seem like folded steel. She also noticed his hair.

"You cut it," she said, touching the strands, which were now no longer than a few inches long. "When did you cut your hair?"

He looked confused for about half a second before he dove forward, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that had her reaching up automatically to steady herself against his shoulders. Hands cupping her jaw, he pressed firmly on the muscles to open her mouth so that he could touch his tongue to hers. Darcy would have smiled if her mouth was otherwise occupied, her affection for him filling her to fullness. Warmth began to rise within her, pooling low in her body until she couldn't help but to arch against him, urging him on. He kissed her with a desperation that she understood, knowing how close they had both come to death that night. It was intolerable that they should spend another moment apart, that anything should separate them.

Loki nipped at her skin, moving down the column of her neck, to her bare shoulders, his hands sliding down to her hips. He gathered the fabric of her dress nimbly, using the strength of the garment to press her hips against the wall so that she could not move, even if she tried. Then, he dropped to one knee, kneeling before her. Darcy watched him watch her, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leaned forward and grasped the fabric of her plain cotton underwear—god, why couldn't she had at least gone out and gotten something sexy for once—with his teeth and pulled steadily downwards. He didn't seem to mind the lack of lace.

Darcy swallowed hard, leaning her head back against the wall because looking at him was becoming far too much for her to handle and her brain might actually explode with the image. When he touched his mouth to the inner part of her thigh, she amended that declaration, asserting that her mind was going to melt with the sensation of his mouth (screw the image) rising up in a teasing, taunting pattern up the sensitive patch of skin. Breath cool against her overheated skin, Loki's kiss finally reached ground zero, and Darcy couldn't help but to reach down and grip the short strands of his hair to guide him where she needed him most. She wished he hadn't cut it, wished he still had the long tendrils so that she could get a good grasp on him. As it was, her fingers merely slid through like water, leaving her pushing her hips against the fabric of her dress just to get more friction.

Loki pulled away for only a moment, "Be careful of the dress, dear, you'll need it later."

She almost screamed at him, she almost slammed her hips against his grip to knock him down a peg, but then he was sliding his tongue against her in a wet slide of flesh against flesh and the only thing she could think to do was groan. Breath coming out in sharp, inconsistent pants, Darcy wallowed in the sensation of his mouth until she thought her heart was going to stop beating out of sheer dumbstruck awe. He would bring her so very close, then draw away only to start over again. When _finally, finally, finally,_ she staggered over the edge of release, her knees gave out and she fell into a heap before him, lungs burning with need for oxygen.

Loki held her aloft, one hand holding her shaking body close while the other massaged the back of her neck as she caught her breath. It took a while, because—well, damn—but Darcy managed to gain her bearings, her forehead pressed into his neck. She was going to say something along the lines of 'god of oral' until that damned chuckled bubbled forth and her sense of fair play kicked in hard enough to jumpstart her movements.

Without warning, Darcy shoved him back hard enough that he lost his balance and landed with a huff in a heap against the floor. Then, she straddled him, careful not to catch the hem of the dress on her knees or heels. Leaning down, Darcy caught his lower lip between her teeth, forcing his mouth open so that she could return the favor of his kiss. There was no coquettish nature to this kiss; she didn't have the patience to play that kind of game at the moment—game playing would come later, after she had evened the score. Darcy kissed him hard enough that she could feel her own lips bruising with the force, her hands busy opening the fly of his slacks.

Taking only a moment, she was able to free him from the confines of his pants and summarily slide her body over him in a smooth, undulating motion. Using her tightening grasp on his shirt, she allowed him only a moment to adjust before beginning a hard driving rhythm that made her thighs burn in the most satisfying way. Head tilted back so that she could only see the outline of his jaw, Loki gasped, groaned, and gripped her dress to try to control her movements in some small way. The silky fabric had ridden up over her hips so that they were free enough to roll against him even with the minor contraction of the fabric. She smiled widely when, and after her hips pulsed solidly against him, Loki began to scramble for purchase against her skin, shoving the garment aside with urgent, eager hands. By then, however, it was too late. His body was already reaching out for her, pulling her in closer, harder, until his hips were returning her movements with equal force.

Core tightening, Darcy felt her body approach the precipice once more, working steadily towards a free fall that threatened to be all consuming. Focusing on her movements, she forced her body to urge faster until she could barely breathe, until her knees cried out in protest, scraping against the fabric of the carpet below her. Her strength was leaving her; somehow she knew she'd never make it there without help. That didn't, however, stop her from trying. Sensing her oncoming distress, Loki rose to sitting, one arm pulling her body to him, the other reaching beneath her ass to guide the motion of her hips. She kissed him, pulling at his suit jacket to gain purchase, her body warming all over until she came on a high pitched moan, the very breath of her lungs stolen from her.

No sooner had she clenched in orgasm did he follow her over, body curling over her and arms holding a little too tightly. He fell back with her and Darcy rolled to the side so that they lay next to each other staring at the ceiling. She inhaled deep through her nose, her thighs still shaking from the exertion though all the other muscles of her body seemed to melt into a puddle on the floor.

When she could finally speak, she said, "I may have to amend my earlier statements about your tongue."

Loki smiled, not able to truly laugh while his lungs were working so hard to carry oxygen to his brain. "I eagerly await your final decision on the matter."

Rolling her eyes, Darcy pushed herself to sitting, "Can you move yet?"

"I have no idea," he replied, "I think you may have destroyed that part of my brain."

"That's a shame," she retorted with a laugh. "I like your ability to move. I wonder if, with the right stimulation, you could eventually move again."

Loki's eyebrow rose at the implication, "It's worth a try. But it will take considerable effort on both our parts." His tone was teasing, and the sly curve of his mouth offset the obvious fondness in his deep, expressive eyes.

Tilting her head to the side, she regarded him with an expression she used on particularly interesting philosophical problems, "I'm willing to put in the work, if you are."

In reply, Loki pulled her down to him for a kiss that was playful and affectionate. He helped her to sit on the bed and knelt down to take her heels off. Then, as if patience were his bitterest rival, he dissolved their clothing with a wave of his hand and pulled her beneath the sheets. Darcy fell asleep that night wrapped in the arms of a man she very much cherished, her cares temporarily diminished to nothingness. She woke only once, when the sensation of fingers sliding over her curves brought her out of sleep into hazy, fuzzy arousal.

The second time around was softer and so much gentler than before, and Darcy reveled in the rolling movements of his hips against her. She pulled him close beneath the sheets, whimpering lowly in response to his mouth pressing down on her, his arms arranging her where he wanted with the ease and authority of his title. The weight of his body on hers gave Darcy this utter feeling of ecstasy that brought her higher than any drug she'd ever tried. She damn near floated to the ceiling afterwards, her body curled against him in the darkness. For the first time in, perhaps, her whole adult life, Darcy was completely content and ridiculously happy. She wanted to bottle the essence of Loki and carry it with her everywhere, fold herself into it until her soul was soaked in him. She hoped it never, never, never ended.

_Holy shit! _

She loved him.

Later, when Loki dosed next to her in the early morning light that seeped through their windows, Darcy took to opportunity to go over the emotions rocking steadily in her heart. She tried to dismiss it as great sex with a pretty decent dude, but it kind of felt like a betrayal on her part. They were friends, she knew that, and Loki obviously held some kind of warm fuzzy feelings for her. Was it love? She couldn't tell if the feeling was mutual, but there was definitely _something_ there for her. Glancing over at him, Darcy vowed to keep her mouth shut until she could be sure, until there wasn't a pressing mortal danger on them. Only then would she be able to think about this objectively, to consider her emotions with a clear head that wasn't clouded by impending doom and high tension.

They lay in bed for the whole day, talking and making love and generally pretending that the world outside didn't exist. Loki showed her a bit more magic, playing an odd came of 'catch' with her. Darcy had to concentrate hard on making sure she caught the pulsing magic ball every time, but eventually they developed a rhythm. She talked about the things she wanted show him, the types of foods and places she'd loved as a kid. He asked questions and prodded at her memories, pulling story after story from her while he showed her how to separate one orb into two. Hours later, they would lay naked on the bed, wrapped up in one another and a tangle of luxurious sheets. The time for talking had passed and Darcy was too exhausted to tempt him into another round of sex. With the sun setting low, Darcy sighed into his skin, snuggling deeper into the covers with Loki languidly tracing the length of her spine with his fingertips.

**I wasn't sure how this would turn out, but I'm pretty happy with it. The next chapter is being edited and will be up shortly. It will be the final chapter (and an epilogue) so its gonna be one hell of a ride!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Awwwww, here we go!**

Some small part of her knew that her newfound bliss wouldn't last, but Darcy had always been one to stand in a river in Egypt, defiantly turning the other cheek while pretending reality didn't exist. She purposefully pulled the comfort and remote atmosphere of the room around her as a shield from the encroaching unease of the inevitable return to reality. Finally, she had to venture out for food because her stomach was screaming at her, tip-toeing to the kitchen with the intent of snagging some munchies and high-tailing it back to relative safety. Darcy made it the pop-tarts before she was discovered. Thor lumbered into the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools, his expression thoughtful and half amused, which didn't bode well for her.

"My brother is not fond of sharing," he said, touching his fingertips together in front of him, his shoulders slumped forward in interest.

Darcy's confused look was the only reply he got—that, and she offered him a pop tart from the box. He took it, breaking it in half and taking a gigantic bite, both of them chewing in companionable silence while Darcy tried to decipher what he wanted. She handed him the rest of the box because, honestly, he was probably going to eat it and she wasn't. Then, she picked at the rest of her tasty treat, peeling off the edges to get at the gooey middle.

"Darcy," he began again, swallowing down half the pop tart. Yet again, he hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully—a completely new experience for Darcy's interactions with him. The change in his usual brash and headstrong nature forced her to pay a little more attention to him, forced her to focus past the general day to day conversation. Thor tossed the pop tarts aside and Darcy's eyebrows hit her hairline. The big guy was turning away from food, this had to be some serious shit.

Dusting off the crumbs from his hands, Thor regarded her with crystalline eyes that conveyed a heavy emotive state. "Loki does not give his attentions to women."

Brows furrowing, Darcy thought about what he had said and the concrete, assured way in which he had said it. "Are you saying he's…gay?" She ventured with exceptional confusion, her voice half breaking with laughter. Because, color her amazed, but he was way too good at intimacy with a woman to not actually enjoy what he was doing.

"No!" Thor corrected, his face turning so red that Darcy was tempted to tap her fingers against his cheeks to test the warmth. "That is not what I meant. What I mean to say is that Loki, in all the time I have known him, has not given his attention to a woman so… openly." He finished his statement lamely, as if he really couldn't understand why he had brought it up in the first place. Darcy could have felt sorry for him; except that she was still stuck on how red the guy could get, given the right embarrassment.

She laughed and playfully punched his arm, "I'm just messing with ya." Darcy knew he was mollified when he took the pop tart up again and munched away. She popped the last of the tart in her mouth and swallowed it down, wiping her hands on her jeans as she decided just how much she wanted to know about Loki's dating life prior to coming to their realm. "So, he doesn't date much."

"At all, Darcy, he doesn't court at all. Our parents tried for many years to provide the correct match for him, but," he looked to the ceiling in thought. "He would show only the barest hint of interest—I'm sure to please our mother." Leaning back, Thor crossed his massive arms over his chest and gave her a hard look. "Do you understand?"

Darcy licked her lips, "I think so. Are the girls on Asgard, like, deformed or something?" His surprised face gave her all the answer she would need for that particular question. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and bounced a little as the silence wore on. "Um, I guess this is kind of a big deal, then."

"I believe you would call it 'epic,'" he supplied helpfully.

"Oh," Darcy replied, suddenly feeling all kinds of momentous pressure that hadn't been there before. What if she screwed this up? None of her other relationships had ever lasted, why would this one? She would have hyperventilated if Thor hadn't dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder, jarring her from her thoughts.

"Fear not, Darcy. I say this not as a warning, but as an encouragement. He must hold deep affection for you to court you openly."

Darcy could feel the blush creeping over her cheeks, but before she could come up with a suitably sarcastic answer, the object of their conversation came strutting into the room looking like, well, a man who had gotten laid recently. She waved awkwardly to him while he moved around the bar and slid into the seat on the other side of her, effectively sandwiching her between an awkward moment and an awkward conversation, both of which she would rather not have. The interactions between the brothers—at least the ones she had seen so far—had been loving, but strained. Darcy could see the hurt in Thor's eyes every time Loki turned from him, and, knowing what she knew now, she understood how hard it was for Loki to face his brother who radiated purity of soul.

Loki picked an apple from a bowl in the center of the bar, producing a knife from out of nowhere to peel and slice the fruit. Darcy couldn't help but to watch his hands as he worked, her own mind regressing to a primitive state as memories flashed before her eyes. She had to look away to breathe, and when she did Darcy caught Thor's amused glance, the skin around his eyes crinkling joyfully. Discreetly, she gave him a hard kick to the shins with one of her feet, which did absolutely nothing but made her feel better all the same. Thor chuckled, tossing yet another wrapped away as he pulled the pop tart from the box.

From her periphery, Darcy saw Loki shift marginally toward her, and when she glanced his way, he was holding a piece of apple out to her between two long fingers. She took it gratefully, sliding the chunk between her lips with a smile and a wink that _might_ have been seductive if she were the kind of girl to do those sorts of things in front of family members. Loki's expression turned wicked and fierce, one hand lifting a tuft of her hair from her shoulder, skimming the nerves there with a deliberate touch to her already sensitized skin. His fingers trailed down her arm until their hands met and intertwined, his thumb circling her palm in slow, firm circles. Darcy bit down on her lip in an attempt to tamp down the recurring blush, failing utterly.

Her attempts a regaining her composure were further thwarted by the rhythmic pulse of magic that he sent running over her arms and down her torso to pool low in her belly. Darcy took a deep breath, clearing her throat. "So, were we able to figure out where the tablet went?"

The mood in the room shifted and Darcy mentally kicked herself for bringing up an incredibly depressing turn of events in the midst of what would otherwise be a pretty decent morning spent with friends. From beside her, Thor heaved a sigh of consternation and shook his head, the blonde of his hair falling forward over his shoulders as he moved.

"No," he replied. "In truth, it could be anywhere, in any realm, and we would not be able to track it down."

Using the leverage from their entwined hands, Loki pulled Darcy closer, his free hand dipping down to palm the skin above her knee possessively. "We will find it and we will destroy it. Trust me." And she did. It scared her to death, possibly more than the demon did, but Darcy trusted Loki with her life. She knew that, with him, it would alright. Shaking her head, Darcy cleared her thoughts of those silly romantic fantasies, glancing down at her feet as she considered her words.

"Well," she said, her voice breaking. She tried again, "Well, I guess we'll just wait to see if the psycho jumps out from the bushes." Though she said it with a smile, Darcy could feel her stomach dropping like a stone in a puddle.

Jarvis interrupted with the calm monotony of a robotic nature, his smooth voice echoing in the kitchen, "Ms. Lewis, you are needed in the SHEILD conference room."

Darcy rolled her eyes, and leaned over to peck Loki on the cheek in a quick farewell, sliding from the stool so that she could make her way across the room. Nodding to Thor, Darcy trotted from the room towards the tunnels, her feet taking her quickly to the conference room where she found Tony and Director Fury standing near the large round table. They looked up in synch as she entered, and that old feeling of walking into the principal's office struck her with breath-taking force. The looks they were giving her were a mixture of pity and guilt, never a good indication.

"So, what's up?" She said, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Tony stepped forward and handed her bag to her with a forced smiled, "You forgot this earlier."

"Thanks," Darcy said, "Is that why you called me up here?"

Fury folded his hands behind his back, observing her carefully, "The tablet and the stone are gone. I can imagine that this has made you uneasy."

"No shit," Darcy quipped on a breath.

Fury smirked, "To keep you safe, we are beginning a twenty four hour watch, starting now." That was going to put a damper on her renewed sex life. "Also starting now, you will be moved to a secure location within SHEILD. You will stay there until we have tracked down the person controlling the demon."

Darcy kind of zoned out after that. Fury continued to talk, but Darcy had ceased to listen. There was a kind of realization that her life as she knew it had effectively ended for the foreseeable future. There would be no late night movies with Jane in the love nest, and forget falling asleep in a bed that fairly vibrated with Loki's magic. It all closed in upon her as Fury continued to talk about guards and details and shifts. Darcy dropped her head into her hands, blowing out a breath as her stomach clenched in an understandable desolation. It pulled at her, shifting her insides against her spine.

For several minutes, the tugging seemed like an almost natural occurrence, but it grew gradually more oppressive. It yanked at her innards until her body physically jerked backwards with each tug. Shifting her stance, Darcy gripped her bag tighter, her gaze lifting to the ceiling while she tried to stay her rampant thought processes. The tug came again, this time hard enough that she took a step back and held up one of her hands. Tendrils of cool air surrounded her, freezing her skin and pushing gooseflesh to the surface.

Tony's keen eyes flicked over to her, "You okay, Sweet Pea? I've got doughnuts if you need a sugar fix."

Darcy shook her head, focusing inwards as the tugging became more insistent, pummeling her center of gravity so that she stood off-balance. It beat at her senses until she was backing up several feet at a time, her feet skidding across the floor despite the rubber soles of her shoes. Tony reacted mainly out of instinct, his hand reaching out to her, hanging in the air between them as she backpedaled against her will. Darcy managed to plant her feet with tremendous effort, her thighs burning as she tried to hold her ground against the invisible thing jamming at her hips and stomach. The air around her cooled still further and her breath puffed out from between her lips in vague wisps of smoke. It was then that she knew she was totally fucked.

Her feet were forced out from under her, and Darcy hit the floor hard, cracking her forehead against the tile. In the next breath, she was being dragged through the steel doors and down into the bowels of the tunnels at a break-neck pace that sent her body careening around corners, hitting walls and outcrops with every turn. Tilting her head back, she could see bodies running full force after her, could hear screams that sounded vaguely like her name coupled with obscenities that would have made her laugh in any other situation. The grip on her feet shifted as she was quite literally thrown upwards into the main hallway of the mansion. There she lay for several long seconds, her grip on her bag loosening marginally before tightening again as she was dragged towards the far wall of the living room and slammed upright upon it.

Hanging there, Darcy had a clear view of the people running towards her—Tony's anxious face, Fury right behind him holding a gun at the ready, though without any targets to shoot. Loki and Thor came barreling in, having heard the screaming (hers, probably), and all she could do was watch as they were flung one by one in different directions while the pressure holding her to the wall increased until she was fighting for breath. It pushed upwards, sending her to the ceiling, her bag nearly slipping from her fingers. Darcy held to it for dear life, and she would be damned if she let it go for anything.

"Hang on, Darcy," Tony called before being thrown over the couch out of sight. One hand reached up to pull himself to standing, "We got this."

More boots came pounding through the door, Clint and Natasha stalling to a standstill as they watched the chaos happening around them with wide, unbelieving eyes. Objects were flying off the wall by invisible forces and baleful moans were being emitted from every dark corner. Natasha glanced up and, for the first time, Darcy could see fear flash in her eyes as she caught sight of Darcy's body pinned to the ceiling. Steve showed up looking sleepy and tired, but his adrenaline kicked in as he even was being dragged into the fray, arms flailing as he lost his balance. When Bruce's dark head popped around the corner, the pressure on Darcy's body released and she fell to the floor with a grunt. Before she could catch her bearings, Darcy was being dragged once again towards the back hallway, past the team in a whir of movement that made her want to vomit.

Kicking out, Darcy tried to disentangle herself from its grip, but whatever it was had a powerful hold on her ankles that nearly cracked the bones. It pulled her along like so much air, fast enough that the drag on her clothing pushed her shirt up around her neck and the carpet below her burned against her back. Around another corner, Darcy felt her body lift and shoot clean into an empty guestroom, the force of the movement shoving her to her knees. The door behind her closed, slamming shut behind her with a finality that had her chest clenching until her heart fairly stopped beating.

There was no light in the room, as if the darkness had absorbed every prism of reflection until she couldn't see her own hands in front of her face, let alone the thing that had brought her here in the first place. Breath coming in shaking pants, Darcy pressed her palms to the ground, feeling the strap of her bag dig into her hands as the only real sensation she could catch in the abyss. The floor below her was hardwood, and firm enough that she knew she was settled back into the correct gravitational pull once again. Steadying herself, Darcy peered ineffectually into the darkness, straining to see anything around her.

For a long time, there was only silence and only darkness in the air, but the heat from the space soon seeped out, magnetized by the evil approaching in the dank room. It left her body shaking with the cold and though she tried to fight it, Darcy could feel the fear rushing through her veins, tainting her mind with inevitability of her own demise. She wasn't safe, perhaps hadn't been since she'd started the case, and now the demon was coming for her in a dark empty room filled with the stench of her own trepidation. Rubbing her hands against her cheeks, Darcy refused to allow herself to cry, refused to give whatever it was the satisfaction of seeing her tears. If she was going to die, she was going to do it with a sneer on her mouth and a bite on her tongue—that was Darcy Lewis' way and she was going to stick to it, damned as she was.

Rising, Darcy braced herself on the balls of her feet, turning in a slow circle to observe her surroundings. Useless as it was with the total lack of light, Darcy felt some sense of reassurance as she moved; mirroring all the moves Natasha had taught her in their training over the last week or so. The silence was creepy, the cold was seriously fucked, but the darkness was what was scaring her the most. If there was something out there, it was probably staring at her, laughing at her fear, and waiting for the opportune moment to rip her heart out of her body, still beating.

Fire burst out from around her in a circle of blazing light and Darcy had to hide her face in her hands to protect her stinging eyes. She remained standing, which was certainly a surprise, but as the fire died down Darcy was able to get a good look at the room. It was empty (again, a surprise), but that didn't mean she was out of danger. Quickly, she stepped towards the door, only to be stopped by a wall of power. It pushed her back roughly and though the feeling of the magic was familiar, it was infinitely more distasteful for her than Loki's magic. It reeked of fear and pestilence, of evil.

Stepping back and away from the door, Darcy hauled her bag up over her shoulder to hang freely at her side. She turned once again in a circle, eyes flicking over the still dim room. The silence wore on, until Darcy called out to it in a desperate attempt, "Hello!" _You fucking idiot, you don't call out to a dark room—remember the rules!_ But, this wasn't some B horror flick, and she wasn't the plucky heroine on a mission to save the world. There would be no sweeping hero coming in to save her, and the demon certainly wasn't going to be wearing leather and spandex. This reality, fucked up as it was, was all she had to work with and her wits were her only weapons against the forces at work around her.

From out of the darkness, a form slithered forward and Darcy recognized it as the darkness that had been following her for weeks. On instinct, she barreled away from it, until her back hit the wall of power near the door. Turning, she clawed at it, her fear overriding every other sense. From behind her, a laugh issued forth, crawling up her spine to settle at the base of her skull, poking at her fear center incessantly until she turned to face it, her back pressed against the electrified wall of magic.

"You're a hard woman to kill," it said, its voice echoing like a thousand screams as it scratched over her eardrums.

Darcy felt her lungs contract until her breath burned her insides, "I suppose I should apologize, but I really can't."

It chuckled again, "A fighter. So refreshing."

"That's me," Darcy shot back, "All fight with lots of bark sprinkles."

It circled her, the magic forcing her forward until she was standing in the center of the suddenly empty room, a circle of light coating her form in eerie luminosity. Bracing herself, Darcy peered outwards until she spotted it, the serpentine movement catching the light and absorbing it into the shadow. She watched it carefully, turning with its movements as it twisted form, slimming down until it became more solid. With all the seriously wonky shit she'd seen, it completely blew her mind that this vague blob could morph into that of a woman—_the_ woman from the medical lab. Her hair waved out from her face, held back by a strap of something that looked like flesh torn from a body and preserved in some sick kind of medical experiment. Her body was strong, lithe, and dusted with something that glowed faintly in the thin light. It was her eyes, however, that caught her attention. They were prismatic, glowing out from her expressive face to convert color into emotive hate and fear.

"You know," she said, "If I didn't have to kill you, I would convert you on the spot."

Darcy rolled her eyes in completely fake bravado, "I don't think I want to join your club."

The woman smiled, "Moot point, darling. You'll be dead in a moment." Invisible hands lifted her to her toes, holding her steady in the center of the circle of light completely unable to move. The woman pulled a knife from the air, setting it aside and conjuring a bowl and candles. The light around her faded as the candles were lit one by one. Darcy may have been forcibly held still, but her mouth was in perfect working order, so much the better.

"So, what is this all about anyways?"

The woman huffed out a breath, "You wouldn't understand."

Darcy tried to shrug, but couldn't. "Since I'm going to be dead here in a minute, maybe you should try me."

Rising, the woman regarded her with a satisfied expression, "Okay. I am a harbinger of destruction."

"You're a demon?" Darcy asked with a light tone.  
The woman shook her head, "No, absolutely not. I'm just the messenger. I called the demon, and control it—at least until the greater power arrives."

Darcy tried to raise an eyebrow, "What greater power?"

"The greatest power," the woman answered emphatically, picking up the bowl and knife with careful hands. "This ritual, it is the final piece of the puzzle, little dove. When all of this is over, blood will rain from the skies, people will cry out in their suffering and there will be no one to hear them."

She had to keep the woman talking, if she could keep the conversation going, then maybe she could stall her long enough to get the team inside and stop the ritual.

"Where do you fit in?" Darcy asked, "I suppose you'll be given a mass of us to rule."

The woman shook her head, "No, it will be so much more than that. I will be queen." It was said with such confidence that Darcy was tempted to believe her. But then she cut away the sleeves of her top, exposing her arms. It brought her back to the knowledge that she was going to die here in a moment, possibly bloody, definitely screaming and in agony. Fuck that.

Darcy forced herself to laugh, "You really think this guy is going to make you a queen? That's, like, the worst pick up line ever. My guess is that you'll be left high and dry just like every other teenage girl PMS-ing in her bathroom while the guy who fucked her over screws everything with two legs and a vagina." It was a cheap shot, she knew, but it was the only thing she could come up with on the spot, and Darcy congratulated herself for the sheer acidity of her tone.

Instead of anger, there was a kind of amusement that made Darcy's blood run cold. "Oh, Sweet Pea, you aren't the first to say that. They're all dead, though, just as you will be."

"Don't call me that," Darcy shot back, venom coating every word. "You don't get to call me that."

The woman looked up from her business, tearing the fabric of Darcy's shirt from her stomach. She pressed her palm to Darcy's cheek in an almost loving caress. "You don't make the rules, here." She added, "Sweet Pea," just for good measure.

After settling the bowl beneath one of Darcy's arms, the woman ran the blade over the length of her forearm, catching the blood in the bowl so as to not miss a drop. The cut wasn't deep, but she bled huge drops of her life's fluid nonetheless. Darcy hissed out a breath, refusing to scream for the pain barreling down her nervous system. The blood poured from her body into the bowl, pooling there in a mass of deep, dark red that didn't actually seem real. She was going to be bled dry, here in an empty room, alone. Well, at least she was going to die talking.

"So, for shits and giggles, let's just say that you, I don't know, fail to complete the ritual," Darcy rolled along conversationally, her eyes following every movement around her and looking for some kind of weak spot.

The woman smiled, "Do you really think I would fail, after having come this far?"

"Humor a dying woman," Darcy replied with a smirk.

She sighed, circling to Darcy's other arm and slicing a long fissure into her skin. "Well, for starters, we'll have one really pissed off demon looking for a meal. And second, the circle around you will probably implode, killing us both."

Darcy tried and failed to nod, "Sounds groovy."

The woman merely hummed in reply, producing some kind of wrapping to dress her wounds, which was kind of unnecessary since the whole point of the ritual was for Darcy to bleed. She patted Darcy's thigh, traipsing around to slice at her stomach, repeating the bloodletting and dressing of the wounds. The blood loss was making Darcy tired, but the adrenaline pumping through her system kept her feeling every inch of pain inflicted upon her. The woman set the knife aside and began a long, slow circle around Darcy's floating body, pouring out her blood as she went. Darcy closed her eyes to the sight, knowing it wouldn't be long before the end came.

"I don't suppose begging would help?" Darcy asked on a strained laugh.

The woman shook her head, "You'll get no mercy here." She then produced the tablet, holding out in front of her. "But I appreciate the idea."

The force holding Darcy aloft let go and she dropped to her knees, holding her arms and abdomen for a moment as it pulled at the cuts. She then widened her stance, facing the woman, "You should probably take off now. The Avengers are going to tear you apart." If persuasion, if begging, if simply humanity wasn't going to work, maybe a threat would do the job.

"Oh no, lovely girl," the woman replied. "I've already taken care of that. Should I show you? I've been blocking the sounds from outside—for your sake, of course." Darcy froze as screams seeped into the room, screams she recognized. Her name sounded a few times, and something pounded against the walls with such force that the floors shook with it. She looked back at the door, wincing as a particularly agonizing scream forced its way through to them.

"You can hear them, can't you? Scrambling to save you," the woman said softly. "Dying for you." And she could hear them, she could hear every tear of skin, she could hear every sound of pain and terror. It broke her heart to hear it, to feel their pain even through the barrier of magic that separated them. The woman was right, they were dying to save her and all she was doing was slowly bleeding through the bandages while the ritual was completed—while the woman brought hell to earth—which was completely fucked up on a whole new level.

Giving her a sympathetic look, the woman reached over the circle of blood, patting Darcy's head, "Don't worry, Sweet Pea, it will all be over soon." And then she began a chant that made absolutely no sense to her in any way, shape, or form. Her guess was that it was Latin, but who really knew? Tablet held out in front of her, the woman's voice rose above the screams coming from the next room. The candles flickered as a freezing wind swept through the room. Darkness closed in on them, leaving Darcy unable to see past the circle of candlelight. Even the ceiling pressed downwards, closing the space to that of a few feet in diameter.

Breathing hard, Darcy slipped her hand into her bag, grasping the one weapon she had on her all the while watching the woman's eyes as the closed with the intensity of the chant. Swallowing back her fear and the knowledge that this was, in fact, suicide, Darcy pulled the weapon from her bag and took aim. She held her breath for one short moment before biting out the words that would probably sign their death warrant.

"I told you, don't call me Sweet Pea. You don't get to call me that." The woman's eyes started open in surprise as the highest voltage of electricity the taser could manage shot through her, stopping the chant and ending the ritual mid-way. Just as she had been shown no mercy, Darcy also gave none. She let the taser do its work, reaching for the knife at her side and sliding over to the woman with a grunt of pain. Lifting the knife high above her head, Darcy had to close her eyes—she couldn't watch was the knife hit home, digging into the flesh of the woman's chest with a squelch.

For the span of about thirty seconds, nothing happened, not a molecule in the room moved under the weight of the unfinished ritual. The wind died down and light flooded the room from the window outside. Darcy looked up at it, surprised at how little time has passed in their little wormhole while the world kept spinning just outside. The sun was beginning to set in the west, a wash of purples and oranges painting the sky. And then, the room began to shake. Darcy had been in earthquakes before, had hid beneath her desk while her middle school shook from its very foundations. This was nothing like that experience. The darkness crept back in, filling the room with darkness that sent Darcy crab walking back towards the door.

Without the barrier of magic to bar her, Darcy could press back against the wood, grasping blindly for the knob. The floorboards began to crack and Darcy watched in horror as the fissure broke open from the floor along the walls beside her. A roar like nothing she had ever heard filled the room, a sound so loud that Darcy had to cover her ears to keep them from bleeding. The woman's body jerked across the room, the knife still standing upright from her chest. Despite the wound and the taser, she was still living and Darcy felt a little pissed that the knife wound hadn't killed her. That feeling didn't last long, because a dark matter flashed in front of her, heading straight for the woman. It floated for a moment before diving forward.

The woman screamed as she was quite literally wrenched apart, her body splitting down the middle as the darkness pushed in and around her body. Curiously enough, the blood didn't hit the floor in a huge spurt as the darkness seemed to absorb both body and bodily fluids while it rotated in concentric circles around the woman's corpse. She probably would have vomited at the sight, but Darcy was somehow becoming morbidly amused at the poetic justice being displayed before her in a private showing of murder.

The darkness finished its grotesque work, the body of the woman disappearing completely amidst the swirling mass of emptiness. Then, it seemed to grow more dense, filling its own void until it blacked out the whole wall. A dull roar built to agonizing intensity, filling the room with the sound. The walls shook and cracked under the noise, bursting from the foundation as a wind pummeled the room until it swirled in a hurling tornado of sound and destruction. Darcy felt the floors fall out from under her and she scrambled for purchase against the walls. Her fingers slid along brick and mortar, her legs kicking to find only empty air.

Screaming, Darcy fell through the emptiness below, hurtling towards the encroaching darkness with increasing speed. So this was how she was going to go—into god knows where with the demon literally ripping apart the room in its anger and rage. Darcy might have found the time to be pissed off that she was being punished for someone else's fuck ups (for once), but the fact that she was no longer defying the laws of that heartless bitch, gravity, took immediate precedence.

Darcy dropped into a deep chasm of dark water that rushed around her body, coating her in a cool cushion of salvation. She fought to make it back to the surface, pushing her body upwards (at least she thought it was upwards) to get at the air. It took several long moments, too many moments that had her thinking she would drown instead, but she eventually made her way to the surface, sucking air into her lungs. Looking around, Darcy found herself floating in Tony's pool, the water clear and chlorinated within an inch of its life. The realization that she was somewhere completely normal instead of the bowels of hell was surreal that Darcy simply treaded water in thought while debris floated downwards to land around her.

Carefully, Darcy pulled herself out of the water and padded through the gaping opening in the side of the mansion towards the rising call of voices one floor up. The trek up the stairs was very painful and she had to stop several times for her aching muscles to have a rest. By the time she made it to the top, she was panting heavily and groping at her abdomen, which burned like a motherfucker. Leaning heavily against the wall, Darcy turned a few corners to see the team and the director staring at the empty space that had been a mass of empty guestrooms and the arcade. It would have been amusing if her ribs weren't half bruised and aching.

They were, each of them, alright—better than alright, if looked like to Darcy's wondering eyes. Confused, she took them all in, not a one was dead or dying or injured or even looked tired—which was such bullshit because she had really thought… Darcy shook her head, chalking it up to demonic lies and psychological materializations from the dark magic. She couldn't move just yet, and spent a little time watching them look out at the sunset from the massive gash in the building.

Tony stood closest to the edge, looking downwards and shaking his head, "Where is she?"

Clint joined him in looking downwards, crouching down, and "She's not in the debris. It's like she disappeared or something."

There was some amusement in the knowledge that she had pulled a David Blaine in the middle of a demonic ritual that had destroyed one of the most secure locations on the planet, but that was short lived as she considered the fact that she was wounded all to hell and back. There was also the idea that she could have literally been drawn into hell, which just didn't sit well with her pasty white ass. Noiselessly, she stepped over to the group, standing between Loki and Steve, joining them in gazing out into the sunset.

"I told you I would blow half the house apart," she said to Loki, who nodded absently. Then, as if realizing just who was speaking to him, his head turned in abject shock, his eyes widening in surprise followed by elation. Darcy smiled at his expression, knowing that it was probably reflected on every face in the room.

"How—you know what, I don't care," He pulled her into a hug and Darcy had to stifle the wince of hurt.

"Easy," she whispered, "Kind of wounded here." Loki pulled back, examining her arms and abdomen, his mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Are there…are you hurt elsewhere?" he asked, and though his words indicated physical wounds, Darcy could tell he was searching for psychological wounds as well.

Darcy shook her head, "Nah, except for maybe I might need some therapy. That was one psychotic lady—she's dead, now—but, damn was she one note short of an octave."

"What happened?" Natasha asked, her eyes flicking down over Darcy's body, calculating the damage out of habit.

Shrugging, Darcy replied, "I don't think I could explain it to you, even if I knew."

That was the truth, no matter who tried to tell her differently. SHEILD agents escorted her to the medical center and the gashes along her arms and stomach were seen to. Then, two very scary men in suits came and asked for her statement over and over, grilling her with questions that were seriously becoming redundant. An hour in, she began to contemplate whether or not she could snag another taser and perhaps catch one of them off-guard. As it was, another two hours later and she had to literally just start screaming at the top of her lungs to get them to shut up about the circle of blood and the weird flesh headband.

When Loki came barreling into the room after hearing her screams, Darcy simply gave him a smile and said, "Good, you're here, let's go." Then, she took his hand and led him from the room in a move as simple as it was loving.

Later, when they were safely ensconced in his room, Darcy told Loki how it happened with every detail she could remember. By the end, he was looking at her as if she had three heads.

"You used a taser to stop the ritual—you used a taser to destroy a messenger for the demonic?"

Darcy shrugged, sliding down into the sheets and turning off the light as if none of his incredulity mattered. "Hey, it worked on your brother."

**There's an epilogue coming, probably will be out this weekend. XD**

**REVIEWS= LOVE!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**This is it, the final chapter in Pawn Takes King-Its been an experience writing this little diddy. I'll probably revisit this couple a little later on, after I've completed "Bargain". **

Darcy pulled on the fabulously intact purple gown for a second time, the situation for which she was dressing infinitely happier than the first time and far more exciting. It fit perfectly, much like last time, and she looked completely bang-able, just like last time—but, unlike last time, there was a flurry of people working around her to make sure that the details, details, _details_ were all covered before their entrance into the main hall. Her best friend was being dressed across the room in a flowing golden swatch of fabric whose folded seams and off the shoulder pattern made the tiny woman look decidedly regal. And that was probably the point.

Hair curled into tight, springy ringlets, Jane allowed pin after golden pin to be slipped through the strands to mold it into a style that Darcy couldn't imagine was comfortable. None of that seemed to matter, as Jane was probably off into her own private fantasies of marrying the love of her life. The woman fairly glowed with happiness that radiated from her very pores. Darcy smiled as she watched the team of practiced women assemble a wedding gown and veil without as much as a single mistake in the process.

When they finished with Jane, Darcy caught the attention of one of the women while she was wrangling a difficult strap on her golden heel. As they approached, Darcy didn't even have the time to wave them off with the assurance that she could handle getting dressed by herself before they pounced. They turned her around several times, tugging on different limbs, some working combs through her hair. Darcy craned her neck to glare at Jane from across the room, spotting her failing to hide a smile behind her hand.

The staff pinned half her hair together in an elaborate plait, tucking a series of jeweled clips into the folds and dragging a brush through the loose tendrils until they shined bright and glossy upon her bare skin. Though they didn't apply makeup, one of them patted something on her skin that made it tingle strangely. She guessed it was some kind of moisturizer. With quick hands, the gaggle of women draped a few beaded strands into the pins, connecting them from side to side in a way that she had seen previously on some of the women of Asgard.

Later, when Darcy looked in the mirror a final time before the ceremony, she saw something she never imagined she would ever see looking back at her in the reflection of the glass. Darcy didn't look like a college student schlepping to classes, she didn't look like an underpaid assistant who bumbled through her daily routine and tried to stay out of everyone's way. Darcy looked like a woman who had finally grown into her skin. She looked confident. She looked proud. Touching the helm still hanging around her neck, Darcy wondered how much of this finished product was the result of recent events and how much of it was her own doing. Shrugging, she turned from the reflection and followed Jane out into a massive hallway.

Everything about Asgard gleamed—literally, everything seemed to be made of spun gold as if the precious metal meant nothing more than iron or steel. The floors, the walls, the bathtubs all reflected a prism of colors that sometimes made her squint even in low lighting. As they walked down the hall, Darcy had to tell herself to breathe deeply so as to calm her nerves. She knew that they would be walking out into a crowd of people the size of the audience at the Super Bowl. It wouldn't do for her to screw this up. The ceremony had taken almost a month of seriously tedious work to plan and, though Darcy had helped as much as possible, it was mostly Pepper taking on the organization until they reached the golden realm. From there, the queen stepped in to take the reins and it had been a whirlwind ever since.

Darcy hadn't gotten a change to explore the palatial estate over the last three or four days that they had been there. And though Loki had been with her when they arrived, she hadn't seen much of him, not even when she was shown some rather impressive rooms that were to be hers for the duration of their stay. It felt weird sleeping alone and she was getting a little more than pissed since, prior to their trip into Asgard, he had been on her like white on rice. She could see his memories and fears play across his face every once in a while, and it seemed like he had been more terrified that she had been while stuck inside the room with the demon.

The group reached a set of set of large, imposing doors and the staff disappeared with soft steps, leaving both Darcy and Jane standing, waiting. Reaching forward, Darcy patted the back of Jane's arm in reassurance, adjusting the length of the train so that it set beautifully behind her. Then, as the doors opened, Darcy was hit with this round of applause so sudden that she had to work in order to school her face into placid acceptance even though what she really wanted to do was hold up her hands and tell them to calm the fuck down for a moment. As it turned out, Asgard was a rowdy bunch of people and their weddings were excuses to get together and party.

They walked through the massive auditorium, and Darcy kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, counting her steps to make sure that she wasn't going to trip and land on her ass. Jane's train flowed in front of her and by the time they reached the top of the steps, Darcy was finally able to lift her eyes to the happenings around her. Thor was standing in full regalia, winged helmet and red cape on full display. Beside him stood Loki, who was, like his brother, in full armor and helmet. Darcy took a moment to drink him in, noting that his bearing had straightened and that he had somehow entered into his element the second he'd stepped back into his homeland. Her disappointment at having not seen him for several days melted away under the force of her understanding that he was a prince among these people and with that title came specific and oftentimes unrelenting responsibilities—that didn't mean that she wouldn't given him a hard time about it, just for kicks.

The ceremony, itself, was short, with oaths taken that were similar and yet strange to her ears, half of them being in a language she could never hope to understand let alone pronounce. As the final vows were taken, Darcy happened to glance across the aisle to Loki, whose eyes flicked down to her in an expression that was affectionate, but guarded. She smiled and gestured to his attire, mouthing a long 'nice,' the syllable stretched out over her smile. His expression loosened and he winked at her, his attention turning to the couple stepping down off the dais and towards the back of the room. Together, they walked out of the auditorium and into a kind of parlor where Thor led Jane to a kind of golden altar. When Darcy would have followed, Loki held her back, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her to his side.

"They are completing the ceremony," he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.

Thor pulled a golden bowl from beneath the altar, unsheathing the ceremonial knife from his belt, holding it gently in one hand. From there, he pressed the blade to his forearm, pushing the knife through his own flesh without even making a sound. The blood ran down his arm and Darcy had to bite her lip to keep from exclaiming obscenities when he made a similar cut along Jane's arm. She looked to Loki for explanation, tugging on his arm emphatically, the pouring fluid hitting a little too close to home for her tastes.

"It is the blood ritual and very powerful magic," he whispered, his voice rubbing sensuously against her skin. "It will bind them together indefinitely, infinitely."

"Oh," Darcy replied as she watched their blood collect in the bowl with an empathetic wince, Thor taking extra care to apply pressure and a bandage to Jane's wound, his own continuing to bleed. When Jane had assured him many times over that she was fine, he saw to his own wound. A bundle of herbs was sprinkled into the bowl and Thor lit the contents with a nearby candle. A wind rushed the room, stirring the incense to the ceiling and out the windows. Darcy watched the wisps float away, Loki pulling her along through a side door, his hands tugging relentlessly on her skin.

"They will need some privacy," he said, "We should head to the reception."

Darcy allowed him to pull her a few more feet before digging her heels in, forcing him to stop and turn to her. "Hey, now that we have a moment, I need to ask you: Where have you been?" When he shot her a confused look, she elaborated. "I miss sleeping with you." At his raised brow, she blushed and elaborated further, "I mean, I miss sleeping next to you—and, yeah, okay, I miss having sex with you, too."

Loki chuckled, and Darcy blushed, feeling her stomach do little flip flops in her belly as she tried to keep her composure. It wouldn't do to drag him down to the floor immediately—they were, after all, in a public hallway during a very crowded event and the chances of them getting caught were obviously pretty high. He pulled her close, one hand running over the helm at her breast tenderly. Darcy gave him an expectant look, very much aware that he hadn't yet answered her questions and could possibly be stalling for time.

"I am sorry for our time apart," he began, "And I have also missed resting next to you in our bed." Darcy smiled at the idea of the room and the bed being theirs, shared between them. After her little stint blowing up the mansion, Loki had permanently moved all of her stuff to his room, arranging the furniture and his own belongings to suit them without so much as a second thought. It was still a pleasant surprise to find him sprawled next to her every morning, one arm wrapped around her waist, nose buried in her hair.

Loki stepped closer so that his mouth pressed lightly along her neckline, "I regret that my duties have kept us apart. You should know that you are never far from my thoughts, and I dream of you…" He tilted her head back, exposing her throat to slow, soft kisses. "My nights are filled with your image just as my days are filled with thoughts of what you are doing. And when I saw you walking towards me, wearing this dress." His hands pressed against the fabric and she could hear the threads groan as they stretched beneath his palms, "It took everything I had to remain standing at the dais and to keep from dragging you off to have you in every way imaginable. I can assure you, Darcy-love, that once we have made an appearance at the festivities, I will do so. Repeatedly."

Darcy's breath hissed out from between her teeth, knowing that he really did mean _every way_ imaginable. Loki could be seriously creative when it came to their sex lives and apparently it was an addiction for her, because she felt like some kind of junkie that was getting a fix for the first time after suffering through withdrawals. The feeling of his body against hers sent her nerves into overdrive, and before she could tell them otherwise, her limbs were wrapping around him, pulling him until there was not an inch of space between them.

"That is one hell of an apology," Darcy said with a chuckle, "But I have an amendment to make to your proposal." She slid her hand down his chest, fingers scraping against the leather and metal across his body, and reached down to cup him firmly through his pants. "Let's blow this joint now and get right to 'every way imaginable'."

They never did make it to the party, but Darcy was willing to forgo massive Asgardian celebrations for the feeling of Loki pressing her into the mattress, a smile on his lips and her heart in his hand.

**Remember, Lovies, Reviews = LOVE!**


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